#it was sunny today and it will be storming tomorrow peace and love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

witchsheartbooks · 3 years ago

Note

If you aren’t too busy, could you possibly do some headcannons for Claire + the boys with their s/o during a blackout due to a thunderstorm??

Personally I find peace in the rain but I did pepper some variety in there for you, Dear anon so please enjoy.

Claire:

As a loud clap of thunder resonated against the roof of the house you shot up in bed with a start.

You hated thunder storms they always made you anxious. The noises, the flashing lights outside, how rickety everything felt in the house when a storm would get severe enough.

You just did not vibe with any of it at all.

Claire wasn’t exactly fond of storms either, but she didn’t mind them too much. Her only real gripe was the fact that she wouldn’t be able to sit outside and enjoy the flower fields she liked to visit or the garden the two of you shared.

Stirring sleepily in bed her voice groggily carried through the room, “What’s wrong y/n. Did the storm wake you?”

Hearing her voice just made you melt you could never quite describe why Claire made you so relaxed but whatever the reason, you appreciated it none the less.

You glanced at the bedside clock, but the numbers didn’t show. It wasn’t even lit up- fuck a blackout? Really? Right now when you felt your most vulnerable?

Your mind began racing again, thoughts only slowing as Claire drowsily booped your nose with her finger. “Y/N look over here.”

Weird how she was the one redirecting you for once.

You gently took her hand as she was withdrawing it, fingers clasping tightly.

“I’ll hum for you ok, y/n? Then we can go back to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you laid back down, resting your head against her chest so the only sounds you could focus on were her heartbeat and the soft chime of her voice.

You were asleep again in mere moments.

Ashe:

He always found the rain soothing, on nights he could sleep anyway.

Sometimes it quelled the nightmares which often clutched at his heart.

As thunder rumbled, he felt you stir next to him, your arms gripping his midsection in a vice.

“Awake now then, Y/N?” You groan at his statement. Atleast Ashe was warm. Why wasn’t he asleep?

You slowly sit up, rubbing your left eye. You then notice the room is pitch black and the sound of him setting a book aside resounds through the empty room.

That made more sense, seems he couldn’t sleep and chose to read. In the dark…?

“Is the power out?”

He hummed a reply, “Yes, and I was just getting to the interesting part of this citation. Though, perhaps your company will be more interesting, hm?”

The two of you then proceed to talk through the rest of the evening. That book had interested him but any time he had with you was more precious.

Wilardo:

You had been helping Wilardo with the flowers all day and had fallen asleep quite early.

Normally you consider yourself a night owl. You rarely sleep at normal hours but because of the work you did today, you had ended up passing out on a loveseat in the living room.

Wilardo couldn’t bring himself to move you since most of the time you were a light sleeper anyway. He had put a soft blanket on you though.

A thunderclap resounded, shaking the roof of the house which then awoke you with a start.

You didn’t recognize your surroundings at first but before you had a chance to get up a low gravely baritone grasped your attention.

“Yea, that one was pretty fuckin’ loud huh?”

Rising from his spot on the couch, he turned to look over to you. Seems instead of choosing the bed, he laid in wait on the couch closest to you.

Had he intended to sleep there if you hadn’t woken up? That seemed possible.

Wilardo was never really picky about where he slept so long as it was close to you.

He stood from the couch, stretching and with an exhale he crossed the distance between the two of you.

“Power went out bout ten minutes ago. Least the garden will be well watered. We can check any wind or flood damage tomorrow.”

Wilardo had brushed some stray strands of hair from your face, gently stroking backwards to pat your head before withdrawing his hand.

“We can stay up as long as ya need to, y/n. Can even pick the room ya want since the window in this one is so damn large.”

You shake your head, rising to meet him with your blanket draped on your shoulders. Sauntering to the windowsill you sit along it among the cushions.

Sure, the rain was scattering hard across the window, but it was something you enjoyed watching.

The sound of the thunder itself was your only real aggravation when it came to storms.

Wil had followed you, sitting behind you and pulling you back with a tug so you could lay back against him.

Both of you had napped here like this on sunny days, though tonight you both exchanged small stories as you watched the rain paint the window.

Sirius:

You were watching the rain from bed, unable to sleep.

Sirius was asleep next to you, arms curled around your midsection. It’s how he always slept but denied it anytime it was brought up in conversation.

A loud thunder clap resounded outside, with this the lavender went rigid against you.

The two of you may be an item now but he still was rather reluctant to be completely open about his emotions with you.

Thankfully, you were the observant type so this didn’t frustrate you as much as it would for most.

Exhaling, his arms had tightened into a vice, you could tell he was hoping you weren’t awake yet.

Sirius loathed displaying weakness in front of others, especially those he greatly admired.

You counted yourself lucky as being one of very few on that list.

Mocking a yawn, you stretched your back against his chest, a hand reaching back to comb through his hair.

You even went so far as to fake the bleariness of sleep in your voice. “What’s wrong, Sirius?”

He melted into you, rather reluctantly but so long as you didn’t bring it up then it was likely he wouldn’t chastise you for it.

“This bloody storm is making sleep nigh impossible for me.” He grumbled tiredly with a huff.

You let him vent about it, you know storms bothered him; especially if they were loud.

“Mmm, then we could talk until it passes?” You suggested gently. Your goal was to redirect his attention onto something else.

He scoffs, “That isn’t the worst idea. Though it seems you’ll be the one leading the discussion this time, Love. I find myself unable to still my train of thought.”

“Oh? Don’t I lead in most situations anyway?” You couldn’t help but tease him slightly, he had left himself open for such a statement with his phrasing.

You could feel his glare but he only sighed, “Yes well it isn’t as if you’ve complained about it in the past now have you? And you’re rather lucky, I let no one else do anything of the sort.”

He paused, burrowing his face into your shoulder upon realizing what he had said with a loud “Ugh, how is it that you bring out this sort of honesty in me so easily?!”

To this you laugh, “It’s not so bad. Atleast it stays between us. So, I wouldn’t stress so much about it.”

“I suppose you aren’t wrong…it’s simply embarrassing that it happens to begin with.” With this statement, silence carried between the both of you for a few minutes.

That was until thunder clapped again and he tensed against you back.

You roll to face him and bring his face to your chest, “Relax. You’re wound up tighter than a bed spring.”

Sirius grumbled quietly until you began to hum softly.

It took a few minutes but gradually he drifted into a light sleep in your arms.

Noel:

He was always up in the evenings, rain or clear nights it didn’t matter.

You had dozed off next to him, he was already in a down mood from there being no stars that night.

Lightening lit up the sky outside the window and the thunder clapped so hard it shook the house.

Noel’s chest tightened and instinctively he gripped your hand.

Loud sounds bothered him more than he could explain.

He had reacted this way if you ever dropped a pan too. You wondered if it was related.

Stirring from both the sound and pressure of his hand, you recognize the signs and sit up quickly.

You rub his shoulder and hum softly.

He leans into your chest, curling like a cat as you sooth him through his panic attack.

You’d done this before, but in the pitch black like this where only the occasional lightening lit the room.

It felt like you were closer to him than you’ve ever been.

That thought alone brought you peace as you focused on soothing Noel back to his senses.

Gradually he found them, slipping into the depths of sleep against you so very shortly after. ~Mod Sirius

#Claire Elford #Wilardo Adler #Sirius Gibson #Noel Levine #Ashe Bradley #Witch's Heart #headcanon #headcanons #Mod Sirius

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

HASO, “Saint.”

This is a bit short today, but we were also short-staffed at work so I didn’t have a lot of time. I hope you like it anyway

Sunny sat beside the pool of water, her spear resting across her knees watching the strange Drev as he knelt by the pool staring at the water below him. She still couldn’t tell how old he was. He could have been as young as she or older than her father had been when he passed, but either way she couldn’t tell.

The dark black of his carapace undulated so black it reflected blue.

They didn’t speak for a very long time, and she closed her eyes thinking quietly to herself as the sun rose overhead.

With the way the mountain encroached in around them, they didn’t see the sun for more than an hour or so before it sunk below the high cliff face once again. Moss was soft below her, and when the sun hit it it burned white hot, but she closed her eyes and relaxed taking long, slow deep breaths through the breathing holes at her neck. In for several seconds and out for several seconds until the world around her seemed to fade away.

In her mind it felt as if she could hear the thrumming of an engine, the Omen whirring above her in the darkness, comforting and warm like the arms of a parent. She missed its warm darkness…. Or did she just miss Adam who she associated to heavily with that place, with the ship.

It occurred to her just then that…. Well she didn’t really associate him with anything else.

The thought gave her a wave of displeasure as she realized.

His identity had been so tied up in his job and ho he was that she…. Well she wasn’t entirely sure if she had ever known him otherwise. Had she just been in love with an idea, had she just loved him simply because no one else had ever seemed willing to try. He was.... The captain of a spaceship, and that was simply everything.

It made her sad sadder than she would have liked to admit.

He had seemed so much more to her then that, so much more than just his job, but th more she thought about him the more she realised she couldn’t rationalize why she had thought that, and what sort of logic had brought her to that original conclusion. He was hollow, a representation of something amazing on the outside but filled with sawdust in the middle.

It wasn’t commentary on him of course. These thoughts weren’t here to make her regret or even to convince herself that he hadn’t been worth it because he had.

He was just…. So lost.

The past few days had convinced her not to feel sorry for herself. That wasn’t the way of the Drev.

But thinking about him, lost and alone, a gossamer through of a person with an identity not his own. She wanted to weep for him, feeling more sorry for the man than she ever had for herself. She thought she understood him now.

Sunny knew she understood.

He was a man who knew he was broken, a half man constructed from one thought. He didn’t believe himself worthy of someone’s attention and so had let her go to save her the hurt of bein with someone like him. He was wrong, of course, but she understood the logic.

In the same way that she would rather take any physical punishment so he would never have to experience it is the same way he would take any emotional punishment to protect her. Inside her chest her heart slowed and her body grew still under the sun, growing warm and then cool as the shadows passed over her.

Until there was nothing.

“It is good to see that drev of your generation have mastered such mental discipline and patience.”

She opened her eyes looking in consternation at the dark Drev who now sat before her, not feet away, and facing her.

She thought she would have noticed him approach, but evidently had been too caught up in her own musings to notice.

On his lap, the Drev held a decorative silver spear with intricate carvings up the side, and the blade sharpened to deadly cutting points by the most artfully crafted Drev obsidian under which would have been a steel and iron cutting edge for when the obsidian was likely to break. It was the most beautiful weapon Sunny had ever seen and she stared at it in awe.

“In past epochs many foolish and impatient Drev have been weeded out by this one simple test.”

Se frowned, “What test.”

He hummed in amusement, “Patience. They storm in here spears bristling and demand I teach them the way of the saints. They threaten and hey rage, and sometimes they would demand I duel them, those that demanded a duel never left this place. But patience is a thing not many Drev understand, for striking first may be advantageous, but the ability to wait for the perfect moment, is a skill not many acquire. Before that there were others, those who would almost have the patience but then would break the silence too early. Sometimes it took them weaks to pass the test with their incessant questions , you're not the first who has come to me, bu you are the first to pass this simple test.”

Sunny looked down at her feet, “I am afraid it is not patience so much as… preoccupation with other things.”

The other Drev seemed to be pleased with this revelation, “Using silent meditation to sort your thoughts is a worthy endeavor, and shows someone with an active mind. Tell me…. Did you find any peace in your thoughts.”

Sunny looked up at the distant blue sky and the clouds that rolled down from above, “I think I did.”

He seemed pleased.

“That’s good, you are further along than most of the Saints were when they came to my mountain.”

Sunny stared at him, “You talk as if you were there, but you can’t be that old.”

He chuckled, “Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn’t. It's hard to remember with a life like mine. Maybe I was an extension of someone else, maybe I was told the stories as a child as if they were my own. Who can say. Regardless, you have already mastered the skills of patience and careful thought, which is not something that is often common in those who come to my mountain.”

“What IS common.”

He sighed, “Impatience mostly, a lust for power, greed. They don’t usually last long.”

There was silence between them for a long moment, “What’s your name/”

“Naktan Chal but Naktan will do, and yours?”

“Chalan.”

“The name seems like a stranger on your lips.”

She shrugged sheepishly, “I am not used to hearing my name spoken in my own tongue.”

He tilted his head in curiosity, “And what tongue do you hear you name in.”

“The tongue of humans.”

“Humans.” he seemed surprised, “I have never seen a human. I have heard their ships, and their war machines, but have never ventured down from my mountain.”

“Sunny is what they call me.”

“What strange sounds, but surprisingly melodic.” he tilted his head, “tell me, Sunny, why are you here and what do you hope to achieve while on my mountain.”

“It is complicated.”

“The whole story then.”

She sighed, “I assume you can see that I am…. I am….”

“I see that you are short, is that what we are getting at?”

She looked down at the turquoise water, “yes.”

“And?’

He didn’t seem to care and she looked up at him in surprise.”

“Everything, everything about you is an opportunity to take an advantage on the battlefield. Some of our traditions are steeped in lies and the misconstrued words of a few confused prophets. Traditions often become twisted and as times go on. The important part of that particular piece of spiritual doctrine is if you can lift a spear. If you cannot lift a spear is when the original wording of the original doctoring takes effect. Though you are small, you can lift a spear, if you only have one hand, you can lift a spear. The tradition of the recycling only comes when the Kit being born has defects so severe they cannot lift a spear.”

“If a kit were born blind?”

“The kit can still lift a spear, can still smell and feel the currents of wind, can still hear the thundering of feet on the ground and the spear whistling through the air.”

Sunny stared at him in awe, “I had…. No idea that's what the…. Original doctrine said..”

“No one remembers. There is a certain air of elitism in the new drev tradition.”

Sunny paused and nodded, “I think that is what I wish to change.” he listened intently, “I fought the humans, during the Drev war…. Do you know of it?”

“I am kept appraised, yes.”

“Well no one expected me to be good at fighting because of my…. Disfigurement. When the Drev war came along I finally found a foe, I thought I could beat, but when we ripped them apart they came back later with synthetic limbs and we lost the war. In an effort to fight against a mother who never approved of me, I went to learn from the humans, thinking that maybe they could help me. I learned in that time that…. The way we have been doing things, may be done better. That we could learn from them, and in my travels across the universe, that assurance has only grown. I wish to bring the Drev into a new age of martial doctrine, one that matches with the universe we have found ourselves a part of. I want to keep the old tradition alive, and by doing that I know that it has to change.”

Naktan stared at her his fance unreadable for a long moment, but then he bowed his head, and when he looked up again his yellow eyes were twinkling with some sort of…. Merriment, or perhaps excitement.

Either way she couldn’t tell, but supposed the expression was a good one.

“The saints smiled down upon you, wanderer.”

He stood, and with the tip of his spear, he reached out and touched the surface of the water causing a delicate wave of ripples to roll out over the pool, “I will guide you in the right of creation.” he rolled the ip of the spear in the other direction, “I will guide you on a journey to bring the martial doctrine of the Drev into a new age. I cannot tell you how long it will take, and I cannot guarantee you will leave as the same Drev who came here. But I can promise you, that I am glad to see you, and I am pleased to help in your honorable efforts.”

He kicked up a wave of water into the air, and when he did shining sparks of clear seemed to refract rainbows against the sky.

“Sleep, and tomorrow we begin.”

“And may you begin your journey unto sainthood.”

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starcountesseevee · 4 years ago

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A Rocket Coincidence (Part 1)

Part 2

Kali was awoken by a soft nuzzle on her cheek by her Umbreon, Rowan, letting her know it was time to get up. She rolled over in her sleeping bag and pulled the top over her head with a groan.

“Just a little longer.” Kali pleaded through the cover as Rowan began pawing at her through the sleeping bag, she had trained it too well. Throwing off the cover Kali glowered at her Umbreon who took a seat next to the extinguished campfire and began cleaning its paw, its job complete. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” Kali stretched, taking in the day. It was a warm and hazy dawn which meant it was going to be another sunny summer day. She was grateful for the pleasant weather as all of her nights for the past week had been spent camping outdoors.

Rummaging in her pack Kali pulled out a few raspberries for Rowan to eat while she packed up the campsite, Kali herself would eat later as she was anxious to hit the road. This was going to be her last day of travel and while there was definitely something about traveling Kali loved she was also looking forward to sleeping in a real bed that night.

Her end destination was Silver Town in the Johto Region, which was located at the base of Mount Silver, but today she was going to take a small detour through the ruins of the ancient city of Pokemopolis. The ruins had always seemed interesting to her and while she had passed this way before she had never taken the time to go and explore them. From what she knew the site had been excavated and any artifacts that had been found were safely preserved in museums but there were still some structures you could get to.

“Alright, girl. Time to go.” Her Umbreon sat patiently as Kali gave her a pat on the head before returning it to its pokeball for the day. Hauling her pack over her shoulder Kali set out towards the main road. She had purposefully camped close to the site so the walk there this morning shouldn’t be too long of one. Kali took a breakfast bar out of her pack, listening to the sounds of the forest come alive around her as the sun began rising. It would have been peaceful except for the unmistakably harsh chatter of a flock of nearby Starlys.

The road took her gradually uphill and the forest eventually gave way on her right to just the stone of the hillside. Kali trailed her fingers along the top of what looked to be the remnants of an old stone wall that ran along the road, wondering about the people who built it. Further along on her left she spotted a small sign that said ‘Pokemopolis’, the arrow on it indicating a small path that led down the hillside. The path was rather steep but after a few minutes of walking Kali came to a larger clearing with what appeared to be the foundations of several old buildings. This must be it. A flock of Pidgeys flew off as she approached making it obvious, if the quiet of the forest hadn’t, she was the only one around.

Kali strolled over to the closest ruin, feeling a bit like a tourist as she read over the plaque in front of it. Each site had notes on what the archaeologists thought each area had been used for along with pictures of what artifacts they had found at each spot. She snapped some photos, making a note of what museums the artifacts were housed in to maybe visit one day.

After a good amount of wandering around she had seen what there was to see and found herself back where she started. Pulling out her Pokegear she checked the map just to make sure she was still headed in the right direction and a ping on the screen piqued her interest. Clicking on it zoomed the screen into a Pokestop that was labeled as 'Ancient Shrine'. Sweet. Kali had hoped that there would be one out here she could earn some points at and if she hurried it didn’t look like it would take her that much farther out of the way.

The path that led there took her further down the hillside and even though it was warm out she was glad for her boots as the road became more rocky. She pulled her red hair up into a messy bun to get it off the back of her neck as the mid-morning sun beat down on the rocky hillside making it feel even hotter. Eventually the path took a turn and led along a wide river. Kali could immediately feel a difference in temperature as a cool breeze swept across the water. She rechecked her Pokegear and it showed the Pokestop as just up around the next bend.

The spot itself was obvious when she reached it as the path she was on opened up into a much wider area. The rock of the hillside had been clearly carved into to reveal the ‘Ancient Shrine’. It was a large statue shaped like a bell that sat on a stone altar above a staircase that looked like it led down under the hill but, unfortunately, it was gated off and locked. A plaque in front of the gate had the large Pokestop QR code on it along with a brief explanation of what the shrine was. Kali took out her Pokegear and scanned the code, her Pokegear making a cheerful ding as it registered the new location for her and added 500 coins to her account. She whistled in appreciation, that would certainly get her quite a bit of supplies. A bit of movement near the base of the statue caught her eye and she glanced down to see a small Krabby shuffling along on the stone, clearly wary of Kalysta.

“Aren't you cute.” Kali snapped a picture with her Pokegear as the Krabby began sidestepping towards the water's edge. She moved aside to let it pass and then checked her map again. If she continued down this path it looked like it circled back up the hillside and connected with the main road to Silver Town. Perfect. She considered letting Lyra, her Vaporeon, out for a quick swim but decided against it as she still needed to reach Silver Town before dark. She was about to head forward when she heard the crunch of footsteps from up ahead and a rather large man strolled around the corner. His black outfit emblazoned with a large red “R” on it was an instant giveaway as a Team Rocket member, subtly wasn’t in their vocabulary. He seemed almost as surprised to see her as she was to see him but quickly shook it off.

“This is a bit far out of the way to be traveling.” He stopped and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly sizing her up. “If you're thinking of passing by you're going to have to battle me first.”

Kali groaned internally, the last thing she needed right now was another delay. She had figured this was far enough out of the way, with obviously no one around, to make it worth any other Trainers or Team Rocket members setting up for battles. Maybe she should have just stuck to the main road but it was too late now.

“Not interested.” She tried to sound indifferent while taking a few steps forward but he moved into the middle of the path to block it.

“It ain't a request.” He frowned in annoyance.

Kali weighed her options. She could go through with a battle but it was getting much too hot and she still needed to reach the city for the competition tomorrow, preferably with her pokemon at full health. Or she could head back the way she had come from but that would be a hell of a lot of backtracking and might make her late for curfew at the dormitories in Silver Town. Maybe there was another option.

“Look, I'm just trying to get to Silver Town before nightfall.” She tried reasoning. “I don’t have time for a battle.”

“Well I'll just make my win quick then.” He countered, smiling arrogantly.

“So, you're really not going to let me pass?” Kali toyed with the single pokeball clipped to her belt as she strolled closer, stopping a couple feet away from him.

“If you’re headed to Silver Town you’re probably competing in the conference.” He ignored her question. “You can’t tell me you’re afraid of one little match out here.” He was goading her and as much as she hated to admit it, it was working. She felt a flare of anger rise in her chest and took a deep breath.

“I’m not, I just don’t want to waste my time proving I can wipe the floor with you.” She shot back.

“You? Defeat me?” He gave her a dismissive once over before laughing. “Not gonna happen.”

“Like you said, I must be heading to Silver Town for the conference. So I’m clearly strong enough to compete. Which is probably more than you can say.” Two could play this game and it appeared she hit a nerve.

“You Team Trainers think you're all so tough but you're nothing but cowards, and-”

“I am NOT a Team Trainer.” She cut him off, a new spark of anger flaring in her chest.

“You think I didn't notice the Valor pin on your pack?”

As soon as he mentioned the pin her face went dark. “Don't fucking assume things you know nothing about!” Kali didn’t wait for a reaction and instead pushed past him, storming off around the bend as she tried to suppress her anger. She hadn't realized how fast she was walking until she reached the main road. She glanced behind her but the Team Rocket guy was nowhere in sight. Good. She kicked a small rock ahead of her as she continued on, her mood now sour.

Part 2

#cliff pokemon go #Team rocket cliff #pokemon go cliff #team go rocket #team rocket cliff #leader cliff #pokemon go #team rocket #pokemon go fanfiction #team rocket leaders #team go rocket cliff

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hellowkatey · 4 years ago

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What are Men to Rocks and Mountains? Chapter 5

Rating: T | No warning apply | Obi-Wan Kenobi & Satine Kryze

Summary: Obi-Wan was hoping for a day off. Satine finds she is being lied to.

Read it on AO3

Chapter 5: I Must Return

Rainy days on Coruscant are Obi-Wan's favorite. Though he is also fond of bright, sunny days when the light warms his skin and uplifts even the worst of moods, there is something comforting about the rainfall. He enjoys the evenness of it as it pangs against the transperisteel panes, rolling down in predictable manners. When it rains, Obi-Wan can be found in a meditation room connected to the Archives. It is not known by most and has the lovely feature of consisting of mostly windows.

This is where he heads now, a stack of coursework tucked under his arm. While he was elated to wake up to the soft pitter-patter of precipitation, there is something nagging at him as he walks the halls. Obi-Wan stares at the rain, trying to deduce what could possibly be throwing him off.

It is rain. Falling as gravity has deemed it to. But the more he stares the more he notices the rain has been thrown off-rhythm. The drops are not even in volume, which is giving a more chaotic sound to it all. As the Force moves through all things, the irregularity of the rain is making the Force seem just as off-balanced. Certainly not the tone he had hoped for, but perhaps the rainstorm will calm by the time he begins his studies.

Obi-Wan reaches a main artery of the Temple, which is swarmed with younglings. He has to twist and dodge the eager initiates as they travel in clusters, not caring to walk in any sort of orderly fashion. It is usually annoying when he is trying to get places, but he finds it quite amusing at his leisure. Obi-Wan remembers being that small himself, attached at the hip to his creche-mates and not caring about any random padawan moving through the Temple. Sometimes he misses those days. The monotony and his constant contact with his best friends were soothing. Obi-Wan took it for granted, wanting to reach his apprenticeship without realizing the things he was losing.

An initiate he recognizes from helping out with classes catches his eye, the humanoid boy flashing a toothy grin that seems to be missing a few parts. Obi-Wan smiles back, reaching down to ruffle the boy's hair as he passes, earning a squeal of delight. Obi-Wan chuckles, looking back at his pathing as he nears the entrance to the Archives.

As though the galaxy could not let him have his pleasantries, the Force whispers in his ear to look. Obi-Wan stops. Turning around he looks across the sea of younglings that has begun to thin, only to see a young woman standing out among them. Lady Satine is the spitting image of how Obi-Wan felt weeks ago arriving at her residence. Hair and clothing sopping wet, giving her as undignified a look as a lady such as herself could possibly achieve in public. He swallows hard. He hasn't seen her in over a week. Since the fundraiser. Does it bring him a small kind of satisfaction to see her so disheveled? Maybe so. But at the same time, for her to be in the Temple cannot be a good sign.

While he may want to just turn around and go about his day, Obi-Wan knows he can hardly do such a thing. He walks toward her slowly, becoming more and more aware of the distress in her face as he draws closer. Red-rimmed eyes follow his movement with an expression that is far less combative than he has ever witnessed on her slender face. Her skin is pale, dark circles under her eyes pronounced. And then he is standing but a meter away, and he realizes she is trembling.

"Lady Satine," he breathes, giving her a bow of respect. She hardly reacts. "Are you well?" He asks though it is very obvious she is not.

She swallows hard, staring through him for a moment before focusing her gaze and looking him in the eye. "I'm afraid I must ask for your help."

One day earlier

Satine sits quietly in her designated pod as the senate session progresses into its third hour. She sighs, wishing Bo or Kira or even Nel would have decided to attend with her. While usually, she shares her pod with senators of other nearby planets in the Mandalorian system, it seems the chancellor gave her special permission for a private seat due to her circumstances. His intentions are right, but quite frankly Satine is bored.

The senate affairs of today are not of any concern to Satine. They address issues that Mandalore has no claim in, and none are even to be put to a vote anyway. Tomorrow will bring another long session of senators yelling at one another while Mas Amedda attempts to keep peace and Chancellor Valorum tries to push a swift vote. Never dull in the senate chambers.

She scrolls through her datapad, reading some additional reports on Mandalore's status she requested from... less official sources. While Satine appreciates the data that Valorum has been so kind as to supply her with, they are mere numbers on a page. Like Nel said nearly a week ago, she is stuck in the bubble of Coruscant when she should be putting her time into figuring out how to end the civil war.

The thought of Nel makes her sigh. Their relationship as of late has been distant ever since the fundraiser. She tried once to bring up the argument, but he elected to just apologize broadly instead of actually discussing the things that were said. The more Satine considers his words, the more she is disillusioned with the man. While an agreeable fellow in his looks and physique, Satine feels like his intellect is unstimulating. He refuses to humor any conversation of deeper topics, particularly when they have to do with emotions. While their romantic future appears to have hit a stalemate, he did a good job of reminding her of her duty to Mandalore that she admittedly has not been putting enough time into.

Senator Tal Merrik sent her field journals over an ultra-secure network. He has been a mentor to Satine over the years, hailing from her home planet of Kalevala and being one of the few to visit her whenever he was in Coruscant. He has been deeply involved in the fighting-- more than most senators would be willing to do-- and had good intel.

She reads it carefully, taking in every horrifying detail. The cities that have been decimated. The death count on both sides. Clans are splintering, split between pacifism and tradition. It's the most honest account she has received thus far, and it pains her. Who can win a battle of war versus peace? The side of peace must fight for peace using war, though that is the direct opposite of the end goal. How can an example be made of a peaceful Mandalore when it is achieved in violent ways? Satine realizes she is clutching the datapad hard enough that her knuckles are white. She relaxes, tuning back into the senate meeting to try and calm herself down.

Thankfully, it seems the hearing is wrapping up. The chancellor has already descended and final announcements are being read. Satine looks down at her comlink to let Bo and Nel know that she is done, only to find a message waiting.

Went to grab food, be back in an hour -Nel.

She looks at the time received and groans. They won't be back for another forty-five minutes at least. "Deny Jedi security, Satine," she mocks to herself as she gathers her things. "We will be your security, Satine." Who was she kidding? Bo and Nel are good fighters, but battle is what they do best. Not security work. Even Kira is not made for the mundane duties of a bodyguard, but she is at least mature enough to handle it.

By the time she exists her pod, the hallways have all but cleared. A storm is predicted to roll in at night, so there is much less lingering than usual. Satine walks through the quiet passages of the rotunda, heading toward the elevators. She continues reading Merrik's report as she walks, hoping it will make her walk slower and time go faster.

I must tell you, Satine, the force of the New Mandalorians are wavering. The traditionalists have the advantage of their craft, and it is not an easy opposition to put up with in a peaceful manner. Especially with the tragic assassination of Duke Adonai Kryze-- to which I give my greatest sympathies in what must be your time of great grief-- I'm afraid we have reached a turning point in this fight and the New Mandalorians are not on the winning side of it...

Satine stops, staring at the final sentence. She reads it through once, and then again.

The tragic assassination of Duke Adonai Kryze.

Time of great grief.

I give my greatest sympathies.

The next thing she knows Satine is grabbing onto the wall for stability, ragged breaths forcing themselves from her lungs where she trapped them. The hallways seem long all of the sudden and a chill creeps through her.

Duke Adonai is dead. Her father is dead? No... he can't be! She would know...

Satine reaches a point where she must make a decision. She can melt into the ground in the Senate hallway, sobbing out the feelings of grief that are threatening to push through the numbness of her shock... or she can find answers.

There is, of course, only one correct answer in a time of war. She picks herself up and marches to the elevators. The world around her seemed blurry and slow. Nothing about it feels real. Maybe this is all a dream?

Satine prays that it is. That she is just having a moment of awareness in the midst of a horrible nightmare.

Within minutes, she is barging into the Chancellor's office, not caring to go through the usual pleasantries. "Did you know?" Her voice sounds foreign coming from her mouth. It is demanding, yet strained with the rasp of holding back a sob.

Chancellor Valorum looks shocked, both from her sudden presence in his office and her vague question. "Lady Kryze, what do I--"

"My father. Did you know?" Valorum's face falls. It is all the answer she needs. Satine stands in front of his desk with her arms wrapped around herself as though she will fall apart if she doesn't hold herself together. She feels like a child, but she doesn't care. Her anger quickly fails to keep its flame and turns to sadness. "When?"

"I was informed of Duke Adonai's assassination very soon after our last meeting, a little over a week ago."

"A week!"

"But," he looks physically pained as he stares at her, and she distantly wonders how pathetic she must look right now. "I was also told in the same report the death would be reported to you by representatives of Clan Kryze personally."

Satine's head whirs. She opens her mouth, but no words manage to escape. She closes it again, hugging her arms around her tighter.

"My deepest apologies, truly. When you mentioned your sister had arrived on Coruscant... I thought you knew."

Satine presses her lips together to hide that they are quivering. She bows shallowly. "I thank you for your honesty, Chancellor, and apologize for this outburst." Before he can answer she is out the door, tears already streaming down her face.

It is a different kind of sadness that fills Satine now. She expected to wail, collapse in a pit of despair, but the tug of grief is much quieter than that. Her tears stream continuously down her face in hot streams that drip off her cheeks. Her throat is tight, feeling as though she will never be able to open it to speak of the horrors she is feeling inside. While she cries, silently and solemnly, she is not crumbling. Quite the opposite, actually. She walks with conviction to the elevator, fueled by the anger of betrayal. Never has violence crossed the mind of Satine so vividly as in this moment when her comlink rings and it is Bo-Katan.

She ignores it. Satine steps into the lift and presses the button to let her out at the taxi drive.

Obi-Wan slips off his cloak, wrapping it around the soaking girl. He can't help but notice how small she looks. She is an average size for a human female, a few inches shorter than Obi-Wan himself, but somehow she always seemed taller. Maybe it was her strong posture that gave her a commanding look or her voice that tends to fill a room when she speaks. He was always aware of her presence when he was in it, but now she feels like she is trying to take up as little space as possible.

"Come," he says softly, placing a hand at her shoulder blades and is surprised when she doesn't jolt away from him.

They walk silently through the Temple. Obi-Wan receives many looks from passerby's, but he makes sure the message he projects in the Force is a firm mind your business. Even the initiates make a point not to stare.

Of course, he cannot not run into people he knows. Bant is walking with Garen, both of whom see Obi-Wan with a trembling civilian. They look surprised and worried, nearly stopping to talk before he makes it obvious he must continue. He presses his lips into a thin line as he acknowledges them, promising to explain later as he passes.

Obi-Wan takes her to a lounge area that civilians are able to occupy and sends a quick message to Qui-Gon to meet him as soon as possible.

The lounge is quiet and comfortable. Satine clutches Obi-Wan's cloak around herself as she settles onto one of the couches. He watches her closely, unsettled at the way she is moving about the room. It is like she is floating aimlessly through space, not trying to push herself in any certain direction. Just... drifting. That empty look on her face has at least settled into more of a neutral expression, though it is plainly obvious she has been crying.

He sits next to her, putting a good distance between them to allow her space. She stares down at her lap where her fists have balled up the thick material of his cloak.

"I did not know where else to go," she says softly, her voice raspy and raw. She looks up at him, her blue eyes seeming much brighter lined with tears. "And I am sorry for how I have treated you, Obi-Wan. It was not fair of me."

"The past is the past," he says, nodding with gratitude. "That is not why you are here, though. What is going on? Are you hurt?"

Lady Satine shakes her head. "It is not me who is wounded. Physically, at least."

Obi-Wan cocks his head to the side in confusion. She clears her throat, staring past him. "The ruler of Mandalore is dead. My... My father." She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, and Obi-Wan now can feel the deep grief radiating through the Force. He allows himself to feel it for just a moment, letting the heaviness settle in his own chest. Obi-Wan wants to reach out and offer a touch of comfort, but he restrains himself. Her eyes open once again, swirls of conflict in them now. "And now that the Duke is dead I-" Her vision focuses back on Obi-Wan, awe evident on her face like she is just realizing her words. "I am Duchess of Mandalore."

Earlier

In the same way she barged into Chancellor Valorum's office, Satine bursts into her own apartment. Bo and Nel stand in the center of the living space, turning in surprise at the racket.

"Satine!" Bo says, her eyebrows narrowing in anger. "What the hell are you--"

Bo is cut off by Satine grabbing her by the collar and pulling her close so they are nearly nose-to-nose. Nel twitches but doesn't pull them apart.

"Why were you sent here?"

Bo's eyes calmly search Satine's face.

"To bring you home."

Satine's anger is quiet and deadly. "I see. So not to tell me our father has been killed?"

For the first time, Bo looks shaken. "How did you--"

Another flash of rage courses through Satine. She pushes her sister backward, suddenly needing an entire galaxy of space between them. "So you've been keeping this from me? Do you think me a fool?"

"No, sister, please, just--"

"No justification you give me can change the fact that you have kept me in the dark. And for what? There is no reason you can give that would put any sense to this madness!"

Bo looks at a loss for words, alternating between looking at her and Nel. Having suddenly remembered Nel is standing there too, Satine turns her attention to him.

"And I am guessing you are just as complacent in all of this."

He stares at her with much less visible emotion than Bo, which makes Satine feel even worse. "It was for your own good, Satine."

"Don't tell me what is my own good. You strung me along, made me feel bad for not knowing what is going on in Mandalore when you are the one deliberately not telling me vital information." She looks back at Bo. "I want you both to leave."

"Be reasonable, Satine!"

"Reasonable?" she scoffs. "You are disillusioned if you think I am the one being unreasonable in this situation. I want you out. Immediately."

A war with words is not one that Bo-Katan can easily win. She looks at Nel and they silently retire to their rooms to get their things.

By nightfall, Bo and Nel have left. They produced orders that Kira was also to return, so Satine's good cousin begrudgingly leaves with them. For the first time in years, Satine is truly alone, and naturally, it should fall in the moment she wants anything other than to be alone.

Finally, she wallows. The grief hits her like a truck and she falls where she stands. It has been years since she has seen her father, and now he is gone before she can say goodbye. Before she can apologize for the hell she raised when he ordered her to Coruscant. She did not understand then. Sometimes, she still doesn't. But she knows enough to know he was saving her life. Saving the future of Mandalore as much as it hurt.

At some point, she falls asleep on the floor. Satine only knows that this happens when she wakes up with a booming post-sobbing headache and a crick in her neck from resting on the hard ground. It is morning, and all is still. She slowly picks herself up, stretching out her cramped limbs and staring blankly into space.

The pain of loss has diminished. The sentiment is there but she feels much more in control of her emotions. With a clear head, Satine now can see the path ahead of her. She knows what she must do.

It's raining when she steps out of the complex. While she moderately prepared for this by choosing to wear a warm tunic and water-repellant trousers, the feeling of the cool droplets against her skin still sends a shiver down her spine. She hardly cares, though, as the numbness from the rain complements the way she already feels.

Satine at least has her nerves to distract her from her other anxieties. The closer she draws to the Jedi Temple, the more she concludes that this is pretty much the opposite of what she wants to do. Unfortunately, what she wants and needs to do are very different things in this situation. Master Jinn has been kind enough, clearly offering her a lifeline with no mention of her previous biases against her security detail. Obi-Wan, however, is another story.

She can't say he hasn't been an upstanding Jedi to her. In terms of doing his duty, he has done just that. Even in their squabbles, he certainly has the gift of wit, but she can't claim he has disrespected her. Even so, to face him again is making Satine nervous. Maybe it is of her own embarrassment for how crudely she has been judging him, or maybe they truly are incompatible. He just... simply drives her crazy. The fact she is finding it increasingly difficult to present concrete reasons for this feeling makes her even madder.

By the time Satine reaches the front steps of the Jedi Temple she is riddled with anxiety, regret, and shaking from the chill. Though the walk is only a kilometer at most, the rain is unrelenting in soaking her to the bone. How pitiful she must look... maybe it is why the Temple guards take no time in allowing her entry once she alerts she is there to meet Qui-Gon Jinn.

Satine has never been in the Jedi Temple, and her expectations of what she would find are not at all what she expected. There is a simple beauty to the vaulted ceilings, plentiful tall windows, and various shows of impressive art. The visitor's entrance opens to a large rotunda of multiple passages going in every which way. The guard instructs her to wait to be met by Master Jinn, and so she has time to take it all in.

While the architecture is gorgeous, Satine is most surprised by the people that now surround her. Children of all races and species fill the corridor. Laughing, teasing, talking in large clusters-- it feels more like a primary school than a Temple, lively and inviting. She stands in place, slowly turning to take it all in. A Jedi Master-Apprentice pair walks through, the Master reaching out to tug on the padawan's braid affectionately. A small group of elderly Jedi pass, throwing her small smiles that seem to quell her stress just a little bit. In the center of the room, she spots a young man, a padawan based on his braid. He weaves through the crowd, standing quite tall over the more plentiful children. Satine watches as he swiftly changes his course ever so slightly to greet one of the young ones with a ruffle to his hair. The kid squeals, making his little friends also giggle at the attention. The young man turns, flashing a big bright smile at the kid and making Satine suck in a sharp breath.

Obi-Wan is the young man, though he is not at all the man she has known thus far. This Jedi is standing tall with his shoulders back, basking in the comfort of his home. Gone is any sign of awkwardness or discomfort she usually associated with him and now she sees a boy as lively as the Temple he lives in, somehow seeming to bring a little bit of brightness to a cold and dreary day.

Satine realizes she has seen the Jedi smile but she has never seen him grin.

Obi-Wan continues on, but then he stops. Satine's heart is pumping in her chest as he suddenly turns around, staring directly at her like he knew she was there all along. Her heart drops when his happy demeanor fades at the very sight of her. Why couldn't it have been Master Jinn?

He is approaching her now, his eyes scanning over her like is trying to figure out a star chart with no coordinates. Sizing her up, though he has no reason to do so. Never has she felt smaller.

"Lady Satine?" he sounds surprised but genuinely curious. "Are you well?"

What clued him in? Was it the soaking wet clothes? How horrid I must look right now after spending the night sobbing and sleeping on the floor? A Jedi needs no Force to make that deduction.

"I'm afraid I must ask for your help."

His eyes search hers, and then he nods. The next thing she knows he is carefully wrapping his cloak around her shoulders. While usually, she would object to such a gesture, especially from Obi-Wan, Satine is cold. The cloak is thick and warm and has a lingering scent of warm spice and a touch of sweetness that reminds her of an aromatic cup of tea. She has no energy to deny such a pleasant feeling, and even allows his hand to lightly rest at her back as he guides her through the Temple.

He takes her to a lounge area. Small but cozy. Obi-Wan mutters something about Master Jinn coming as well but his voice just sounds far away. She's distracted. Not by the things that actually matter but about the trivial things that take her mind away from her loss.

"I did not know where else to go... And I am sorry for how I have treated you, Obi-Wan. It was not fair of me."

He looks surprised and concerned. The young Jedi is not nearly as distant as she expected him to be at their reunion, but showing great interest in her wellbeing. He asks why she is really here and Satine finally musters the courage to say it aloud.

"The ruler of Mandalore is dead. My... My father." she chokes as she tries to keep her breaths even, pushing away the panic attack that threatens to surface. But as the words settle into the air, realization hits Satine like a truck. The ruler of Mandalore is dead. "And now that the Duke is dead I-" She cannot bear to say it aloud. It's too soon. She is not ready. The panic continues to surge through her until she finally focuses on Obi-Wan, his calm eyes staring at her with patience and sympathy. She looks back, allowing herself to be grounded in his placid energy. Duty. It is my duty. "I am Duchess of Mandalore."

Duchess of Mandalore. It sounds foreign. For so long her future has been talked about in what felt like theoretical terms, but suddenly nothing is rhetorical.

"Satine," the Jedi says softly. She realizes he has never addressed her in such an informal way, but she will allow it for this moment. "I am so sorry. What can I do?"

The door to the lounge opens and in walks Qui-Gon Jinn. His expression is laced with trepidation upon seeing the two sitting on the lounger. Satine looks at Qui-Gon, and then back to his padawan.

"I must return to Mandalore. At once."

Read it on AO3

Note: I will not be posting every chapter here on Tumblr... just the ones I am the most pleased with since this is a longer fic and will have filler for plot purposes (i.e. chapter 4). To read in full, check out the link to read on AO3.

#obitine #fanfiction #star wars #the clone wars #prequels #sw legends #ao3 #what are men to rocks and mountains #pride and prejudice fusion #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #fluff #angst #technically canon compliant

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roseyserpents · 5 years ago

Text

Secrets

Discoveries

Summary: You and Sweet Pea went through a rough patch in your relationship that almost tore you apart. As you're fixing your relationship, your secrets start to get in the way. Can your relationship withstand another storm?

Warnings: threats?

Word count: 1438

A/N: I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've been busy with midterms and shit but I should get back into updating now! That's also why the chapters short (I edited and it didn't save and I'm to tired to redo it) :)

You woke up lying on Sweet Peas chest, his arm wrapped around your waist keeping you in place. His chest gently rose and fell, moving your head up and down with each of his soft breaths. A gentle smile crossed your face as you moved your thumb back and forth, your hand on his chest. Sunlight seeps through the cracks in the blinds, basking the peaceful morning in a warm yellow glow.

"Morning." Sweet Pea says, voice deep and scratchy from sleep. You prop yourself up on your elbow, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek pulling away with a small smile. "You missed." You roll your eyes as he turns on his side, his head still in the pillow.

"Can we just stay here all day?" You ask, mindlessly playing with the fingers on one of his hands.

"I would say yes, but I have to go somewhere with Jughead and Fangs at one." Sweet Pea sighs.

"Nooo." You oppose, wrapping your arms around him. "Mine."

"I'll be back around seven." He assures you, his hand cradling the back of your head. "It's not that long."

"Six hours!" You exclaim, leaning back so you can look at him. "That's a fourth of the day!"

"You're not coming with us." He says softly but sternly saying there was no bargaining on this.

"Why not?" You whine, sounding more like his child than his girlfriend.

"It's dangerous and I don't want you getting hurt." He answers. "It's a boys trip."

"So you think us girls and Kevin aren't tough?" You ask, quirking a brow prompting him to let out an exasperated sigh.

"No, but none of us want our girlfriends or boyfriend to get involved with this."

You groan but give up on trying to go with him, finding it cute he wanted to keep you safe and gratefully accepting the momentary peace from a great deal of questions from the events of last night. After lying in bed for another hour you finally get dressed and make food.

Around quarter til seven you hear a knock on the door, pausing the TV and drawing your brow together. You didn't understand why Sweet Pea would knock on the door to his own home but you got up to open the door nonetheless, your face falling when you see the person behind it.

"You didn't tell me you were home all by your lonesome today." Matt says, letting himself in.

"Get out Matt," you command sternly, "You will not come in and taint my home, the one place I have left that's fortunately been untouched by you."

"Well unfortunately for you, I have the upper-hand in this situation." He says, picking up a framed picture of you and Sweet Pea and rolls his eyes.

"Honestly he's made you go soft. You never did anything like this in Bidview." He scoffs, referring to you and Sweet Pea sitting on a couch with your legs over his and your arms wrapped around him, your chin on his shoulder and your noses brushed against each other in an Eskimo kiss. You both have wide smiles but they're at each other instead of the camera as if it simply doesn't exist.

"No, he's made me me again. You have no clue who I am." You defend.

"Oh Y/n/n, you don't really believe you can escape from who you were with me; from what you did. Killing someone isn't something you can just forget." He smirks, leaning against the wall next to the still open door.

"Matt I swear to you, if you lay a single one of your disgusting hands on Sweet Pea or keep meddling in our relationship, I chase you out of town. I will tell everyone who - what you are. And that's a promise." You hiss, slowly stepping closer until you stand in front of him with your finger jabbed in his chest.

"I think you forgot my only real goal in being here. All of the other stuff I'm doing on the side like our dance we shared yesterday is simply just for fun. But there's something I can promise you, if you keep this up, not only will you be back with the Ghoulies and the Serpents gone, you and Sweet Pea won't exist and you'll be crawling back to me. So if I were you, it choose your next actions very. Wisely." His voice and expression had gradually hardened and gotten darker as his mini speech continued until he looked exactly how he did when he was with you. For the first time since this all started, you felt genuine fear of what you had gotten yourself in to and for everything you'd gotten for yourself. You hated yourself for dragging Sweet Pea into this, for risking the entirety of the Serpents, for getting involved with Matt, for getting into this mess in the first place. You'd rebuilt yourself since Bidview and the Ghoulies but now the tar that seemed to fill the two memories was trying to seep into the sunny bright new life, slowly infecting the light.

"Y/n?" Toni says from the doorway.

Toni looks between you and Matt in disbelief and something between disappointment and something else.

"Sam. Out. Now." You say with no way for him to deny it. He walks out but now without flashing Toni a grin before trotting down the steps and back to what ever depth of hell he came from.

"So are you going to explain that to me, or am I going to have to ask Sweet Pea?" She asks, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Toni it's, it's not that easy." You sigh, running your fingers through your hair and closing the door before sitting down on the couch.

"You killed somebody? You were a Ghoulie?" She continues to question, standing in front of you after crossing the room.

"Everything you heard is from my life before I moved to Riverdale and left it all behind. I don't want anything to do with what I did. You heard, I'm a lot different than that me." You give an exasperated answer. "Please, let's just leave this for tomorrow."

She presses her lips into a line, as if considering your proposal before agreeing. "I expect answers, though." You nod and let her out before collapsing on to the couch with a single, silent tear tracking down your cheek. You tried so hard to prevent this. To prevent everything from your before to come crashing into your now.

The front door opens yet again but this time the heavy footsteps are welcome. Sweet Pea shuts the door and throws off his Serpents jacket where it falls in a heap of leather on the counter.

"Y/n, what's wrong?" He asks after seeing your cracking state. You don't answer as you feel yourself break down, standing up and wrapping your arms tightly around him you let out a sob into his shirt leaving a wet spot of your tears. "Hey hey hey, I got you, you're okay." He tries to comfort you, his strong arms holding you against him. He places a lingering kiss to your hair before resting his chin on your head. You clung to him like your life depended on it, like he was the only thing anchoring you to this life. Sweet Pea lead you to the bedroom and you both sat down with you still clinging to him.

"Y/n, what happened? Did someone hurt you?" He asks, the last part coming out sterner as if he was already enraged at the thought of it.

"I'm sorry." You sniff, your face still buried in his chest. "I love you, so much Sweet Pea."

"I love you too." He replies, chosing to leave the answers to his questions for another time seeing as you didn't seem to be in the right state to give them. He was worried about you. Ever since Sam had started school and he was in your life again, you had gone downhill fast. Everything about you had changed and your overall positive mood had been turned into one of seriousness. Your jokes and clinginess that was annoyingly cute had disappeared and been replaced with worry and you acting like you were always looking over your shoulder. He didn't know exactly what the situation between you and Sam was, but he knew he was going to get to the bottom of it and find some way to get you out of whatever it was and keep you safe. But in doing so, he didn't know just how much trouble he would get himself in.

Taglist: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @stilinski-sister @oopsiedoopsie23 @yall-wildin-like-siriusly

#sweet pea au #sweet pea smut #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #riverdale season four #riverdale au #riverdale imagine #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale #jughead jones #toni topaz #cheryl x toni #fangs fogarty #southside serpents #secrets

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writethehousedown · 5 years ago

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Here Comes the Sun 2/7 (Branjie) -- athena2

Day 2, Umbrella: Brooke returns Vanessa’s umbrella, and grows a little closer to her.

Thank you to Writ for betaing this chapter!

Brooke can’t stop staring at Vanessa’s umbrella. She couldn’t get a good look in the rain, but it’s a vibrant, sunny yellow, the top home to bright purple flowers and soft green leaves and smiling red ladybugs.

She grips the handle and pretends she’s holding Vanessa’s hand. She pictures Vanessa’s hand around hers in a storm, clenched tight in the pouring rain, or maybe relaxed, since rain didn’t seem to bother Vanessa much. Vanessa seems like the type to hum along to “Umbrella” and dance in the rain with woodland animals like a Disney princess, while Brooke gritted her teeth and somehow had raindrops hit her right in the eye.

Eventually she has to put it down and get ready for work, shooting her fellow teacher Nina a text asking whether bringing Vanessa coffee and a muffin is too much of a thank you for an umbrella.

Nina West: I don’t think it’s too much.

Nina West: It would be a good chance for you two to TALK

Nina West: Pretend I’m nudging your shoulder and winking

Two winking emojis follow, and Brooke sighs. Nina, too observant to even be fair sometimes, had picked up on Brooke staring at Vanessa, Brooke losing focus on her lesson plans when Vanessa laughed during lunch, and has been pushing Brooke to talk to her for months. Brooke wishes she could, but being around Vanessa dries her throat out like the desert and plucks every thought from her head.

It’s just coffee, Brooke tells herself. Just a thank you.

She heads out the door, twirling Vanessa’s umbrella in her hand.

—

Vanessa sighs as she enters the school, her shoes squelching even after she scraped them off on the carpet. “Good thing my lunch bag is waterproof. This rain is wild.”

Silky rolls her eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t give your umbrella to Miss Brooke–”

“Hey!” Vanessa snaps. “I lied and told her I had an extra. I didn’t want it to look like I was letting her borrow my only umbrella because–”

“Because you’ve had a crush on her for years?” A’keria chimes in.

Vanessa should’ve never told them she likes Brooke. It isn’t like she’s been discrete about her feelings, though, missing most of the faculty meetings because she couldn’t stop thinking about how cute Brooke looks while she takes notes. Brooke is so meticulous, her decorations looking like a machine made them, but it was just her own clever hands, and so dedicated to her students that she often stays as late as Vanessa to work on teaching plans or get crafts ready. Their classrooms share a wall, and though Brooke speaks softly, sometimes her voice travels through the open window, making Vanessa lose her train of thought to the amusement of thirty five-year-olds.

Vanessa’s been trying to talk to her more, beyond discussing the weather or funny stuff their kids did, but it never seems to work. Brooke is always reading, or working on lesson plans, or looking so happy with her peanut butter and jelly sandwich that Vanessa couldn’t find a way in.

Vanessa unlocks her classroom door. “Have fun grading!” she teases, since A’keria and Silky co-teach fifth grade, where they had to read three-paragraph essays written by kids who had no idea what they were writing. “We’re counting with ladybug toys today.”

Both of them grumble before saying they’ll meet her at lunch.

Vanessa’s classroom is an oasis, bright and joyous yet calm and peaceful. The back right corner is covered by a rug featuring a rainbow against a blue sky, the chair she uses to read to the kids in the center. Cubbies for the kids and shelves crammed with toys and games occupy the back left wall, along with a smaller rainbow rug for anyone who gets overwhelmed and needs a break. Long tables face the chalkboard, with a construction paper name tag (currently chicks for spring) for each kid. It’s the kind of classroom she would have liked as a kid and still likes now, especially the spring flowers along the walls. Her mom used to have an enormous flower garden that filled the whole backyard with sweet lavender and fresh rose scents. Vanessa would pick them and bring them in the house, tearing a few petals in her eager excitement.

She picks up the LEGO blocks littering the rug–maybe she’ll have to sing the clean-up song with a little more vigor today–and puts Bertha’s cage in its usual spot. A knock tears her away, and she turns to see Brooke in her doorway, umbrella in one hand and a coffee cup and bag in the other.

Vanessa’s heart lurches at the sight of her. “Morning, Brooke.” Vanessa takes any chance she can to use Brooke’s name, so used to calling her Ms. Hytes in front of the kids that Brooke feels special, like a gift, one that makes Vanessa warm inside.

“Morning.” Brooke’s cheeks are bright pink and Vanessa warms even more. “Um, thank you again. For the umbrella. I brought you coffee. A-and a muffin.”

Vanessa takes the umbrella and lays it on one of the tables, accepting the coffee gratefully. Brooke even got her little packs of sugar and cream so she could make the coffee how she wanted it, and Vanessa’s heart gives that familiar tug it does around Brooke. “You didn’t have to do all that for me. Best believe I’m drinking it, but you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Brooke insists, handing her a chocolate chip muffin. Warmth radiates through the wrapper, and Vanessa sighs in pleasure, hoping Brooke didn’t hear her moaning over a muffin.

“Thank you.” Vanessa looks up at Brooke, fingers nervously weaving through her blonde hair. “You want half with me?”

Brooke blushes as red as the construction-paper roses on Vanessa’s wall. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! This thing’s bigger than my head.” Vanessa grabs a knife and two paper plates from her desk, motioning for Brooke to sit at one of the kid’s tables. Vanessa stifles a laugh as Brooke knocks her knees against the table, rearranging the chair and twisting her legs this way and that like a pretzel before she can sit at least somewhat comfortably. Vanessa plops down in the kid-sized chair like it’s a normal chair, prompting Brooke to laugh until she has tears in her eyes.

“You’re so tiny!” Brooke teases. “Maybe you should use one of these chairs at your desk. You fit in them perfectly.”

“Hey!” Vanessa laughs. “I happen to be petite, thank you very much!”

Brooke just smiles, eyes wide in disbelief at them sitting here like this. Vanessa can hardly believe it either, cutting the muffin just so something in this feels real.

The muffin is reduced to crumbs as she and Brooke talk about Brooklyn Nine-Nine, the minutes flying by. The warning bell rangs, cutting through the trance she and Brooke both seem to be in.

Brooke grabs her bags, and Vanessa decides to just go for it. She knows Brooke gets stuck in her head too much at times, that it might be hard for her to ask even if she’s given Vanessa several hints that she wants to. “Hey, Brooke? Do you maybe want to have lunch together tomorrow?”

“I’d love that, Vanessa,” Brooke says with a smile.

She says goodbye to Brooke, and when she looks out the window, the rain has come to a stop.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #athena2 #here comes the sun #lesbian au #fluff #concrit welcome #spring fling 2020 #day 2: umbrella #submission

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reneeswing · 5 years ago

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The Joy, The Ridicule and The Hope

Let's rewind: what are the top three advices that have been given to us about COVID-19 prevention: wash your hand, observe social distance and take care of each other. Does that ring the bell that we have learnt all three things since we are in elementary school, if we are ever lucky enough to go to one.

So, I am going to make a bold statement here: most of the life-long lessons that we need for going through life, we’ve learnt them way before advanced educations, regardless of differences in culture, race and geographic locations. Yet, the sad truth is we only seem to spend the remainder of our time forgetting all we have learnt and all we need to remember to overcome this conundrum. If I dig a bit deeper, my basic education have equiped me with way more useful knowledge than what business school and law school have ever tought me. To name a few, geography helps me to navigate through the continents without being laughed at, history and literature offer me perspectives to see and comprehend everything ever happened in this time and this world. Law school and business school, on the other hand, slowly coop up people into a disillusion of elite class, distancing them from what’s actually going on in this insanely biased reality. Don’t get me wrong, I still believe every opportunity of education matters, it emancipates and liberates generations; and if anything, I have been blessed with all sort of way of thinking, coming from each stage of my school years. It is the monotonous perception on education that sometimes misinterprets or overly simplifies its true essence.

Do anyone begin to appreciate the down time of this quanrantine yet? I am not saying this to trivialize the dismal impact of the pandemic; because both our economic and social lives have taken a major toll from this crisis. For those who are alone in this quarantine, they are craving for human contact, the touch, the hug, all the more basic need of being a human; whereas for those who have a full house with multiple children at home, the working day never ends as it is combined with home schooling. This makes people finally realize that their job is their ultimate refuge. One of my friends started to refer to her kids as fantastic beasts, since the third week of the lockdown. This is, in my opinion, one of the best metaphors of the year. Now, this is what I hope: when all this is over, we will eventually appreciate more of our teachers and other educational workers. for us, it is only with our own kids, whereas at school, kids are ganged up on them. They are entitled to fairer reward and respect from all walks of the society.

Like others, my emotion has gone through various stages: at first, I was fairly content with what I’ve got here, a cozy home, abundant toilet rolls and sufficient supply of alcoholic grape juice. Then some kind of obsession started to develop, the bad kind is to slowly transform healthy self-reflection into self-condemnation for something I have done wrong 2,3,5 years ago. And the more time I spent on my devices, the higher level of anxiety incubated. Then, later on, I decided to have a rather lengthy conversation with myself, the righteous thing that I have ever done: committing to my own feelings, compelling myself away from judgement. I learnt to acknowledge them, more importantly, I searched for language and specific words to label them in all the more precise way. Through that exercise, I realized although they appear similarly, the emotion of anxiety is very different from that of sadness; and the exhileration that I was feeling is also different from excitement. When I found out I was able to distinguish those various emotions in me, I felt stress level has already half way gone, I could call the truce with myself. So, something good does come out from this period. When we are not able to go out, we should allow ourselves to go within.

There are a lot more silver linings. To my recollection over the past 8 years, I don’t rememer any of the Dutch springs is as beautiful as this one. We’ve had sunny and warm weather throughout the month of April. Everyday, I went onto my balcony, let the light beam through my forehead and inhale the most precious fresh air. It is painful to face it that our continents are receding to isolated islands as all the traffics are shut down, but it is also delightful to find that nature thrives when human society hits the PAUSE button. The blue sky is returned to the birds and their flapping wings; waterways turn purer as no more crazy human running around and emitting pollution into them. Even panda’s resume consummation. For the last 2,3 years, anthropogenic activities have caused large scale bushfires across north and south hemispheres; it happened even in Syberia above the North Pole. Human society is inflicting pains onto the lung of our Mother Earth. Isn’t it an irony that our respiratory system is succumbed to this coronavirus? I couldn’t help but wonder if this pandemic is the nature’s vengeance onto the arrogance of human race? So, here comes my second wish. One day as we come out of this pandemic, our peaceful moments with the nature will stick around a bit longer. Even though I know that humanity is terrible at reckoning with it own sin, I still wish this time, after all we have endured, we will finally learn to return the favour for our Mother Nature’s altruistic love. That we will be more reflective on our own behaviours, the impact that each of us have made onto anything outside of ourselves. You may say I am a dreamer, but I am definitely not and should not be the only one.

......

The world is suffering from its own bipolar disorder. To steer my way clear from the menaces, I rid myself of watching news during the weekends. But one still doesn't make the cut. As for a while, it is the only thing that people couldn't stop talking about: Donald Trump contemplates injecting/ingesting coronavirus patients with disinfectants, until the moment he made the next obnoxious statement. What's even more troubling is there was actually a slight increasing number of ER cases caused by internal administration of chemical solvent. Both New York Times and RB, the producer of Lysol and Dettol, had to make official announcement to talk people out of their desperate craze. One day I woke up and spit out this question: how is it even possibly happening? If B school has ever taught me anything, it is that leadership matters; and I dedicated most of my career contemplating how to be a good (future) leader. But nowadays, we are riding a perfect storm, while sinking down into a chasm called: the scum rises to the top. We are living in a reality that outruns the most ridiculous screenwriting of political drama. Not only have we got Trump assumed the most powerful position in this world, we don't seem capable of appropriating any countermeasures to dampen the damages. Although his strategy is nothing much different from that of a shameless politician: barking up the wrong trees to divert the public's attention further away from criticism against him, the impact however is way too profound to be left alone. He is dividing not only a country, also driving a wedge between friendly countries, when the only hope the world is left with is the hope of solidarity.

The world is in urgent need of an assertive voice with a kind heart and a pair of potent hands. It cannot be done by one person, rather, has to be a collective conscience of all the human societies. The younger generation does not believe in institutions, they embrace anarchistic believes and have little problem of taking things to its extremity; but in the meantime, they are reasonable, way more objective and fairer than they are being judged or even portrayed. They believe in gender equality, inform themselves of cultural intricacy and they gather to rally for animal rights and climate change. For both reasons, their world needs leaders with integrity and convincing voices. In all appropriate times, we need to learn to be a leader for ourselves and for others. It is up to us how we are going to make our next decision, in giving an opinion, in executing right to vote, in influencing people around us and in doing smallest good deeds to hold onto each other. Here's an example. It is no strange thing to know that our doctors and nurses are working under tremendous physical and mental pressures. We've heard multiple cases in Italy and the US that medical staff committed suicide after virus contraction or nervous breakdown. In almost every country, people are finding ways to demonstrate their gratitude to their guardian angels; however news from India reads that doctors and nurses become target of discrimination, demonising them as virus itself. Similar discriminatory stories surface from time to time around the world against people from other countries or communities because of the pandemic. This shows how far off people could be dangerously biased and misled; the absence of a just and empathetic figure in the leadership attributes to and to a great extent severs the alienation. But we all could and should choose to lead. We can never let our guard down, ignoring any appalling ignorance, even with the slightest carelessness. We need to speak up, protect people who are protecting us and the world's most vulnerable's. We need to do it constantly, consistently and often enough. Bear in mind, our decision and undertaking of today will define our tomorrow in common.

......

Alright, enough about the grim prospect and grievance. As far as being a hopeless optimist, I will complement my third wish with a faith in humanity after it all. Yesterday, I watched the season finale of Westworld. As Dolores sank down into her memory, she restated: "Some people choose to see the ugliness in this world. The disarray. I choose to see the beauty". I agree with every bit of those words. I believe the key to the sublime lies in ourselves and our conscience. In the end, true bravery is to love the world and humanity, despite the ugliness that we have seen or experienced.��

Before I let you go, I am inviting you to join me in paying tributes to all the essential workers who are risking their lives every day to keep ours running without panics. Next to our lovely doctors and nurses, here's to the infrastructure workers, the train conductors and bus drivers, the supermarkets' staff, the logistics companies, the mailman, (especially my mailman, who brings me my 1,000 packages to fill the huge void in my soul), the journalists and newsmen, who are running all across the countries, strive to bring us brutal facts, inconvenient truths, disarray and hopes. Collectively you've prevented the world from crumpling, after the mess we made. I thank you for that!

Please take care and stay healthy!

Love, R

#stories

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slusheeduck · 6 years ago

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The Way You Keep Me Guessing: Coco Teacher AU

[Arc 1]

Arc 2: [Together] [A Talk] [The Visit] [Time] [Shot]

Chapter 6: Dropping In

“Mijo, it’s been so long!”

Héctor felt his whole world come to a halt. This couldn’t be real. It just…it couldn’t. Sure, that looked like his mother, and the hallucination even had the decency to have a few new—yet not unflattering—lines around her eyes and mouth. But what were the chances that today, of all days, was when Mariana Rivera decided to reappear?

Instinctively, Héctor glanced over to Ernesto. Given his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes, he saw her, too. So then…

“Mamá?”

He just barely managed to force the sounds out, more of a wheeze than a word. But that was all Mari needed, her face splitting into a sunny smile as she came into the apartment, arms outstretched.

“Oh, Teto, mi corazón, I’ve missed you!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the tequila or the shock, but she seemed to materialize right in front of him, pulling his face down (that’s right, he was taller than her now; he couldn’t quite shake off the feeling that she’d always tower over him) to pepper kisses to his cheek. She pulled back, brown eyes warm as she looked up at him and laughed.

“Dios mio, Teto, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Héctor blinked a few times. “Ah…how…how did you know where I live?’

Mari’s lips gathered in a teasing pout. “Is that all the greeting I get?” she asked, then pat his cheek. “You must have forgotten that your letters have a return address, bobo.”

Well, no. Truth be told, he hadn’t thought she’d actually gotten them. But apparently she had, so best not to mention that.

Before he could give her some sort of answer, she turned around to look at Miguel, still lingering by the door. “And you! You must be Miguelito! My sister’s told me all about you!”

Miguel’s brow furrowed. “You’re…Tío Héctor’s mama?”

“That’s right, cielito!” She turned around to face Miguel, walking back over to him. “I’m your Tía Mari. I’m guessing Elena doesn’t talk about me much, but I’m so excited to meet you, mijo.” Héctor couldn’t see her face from this angle, but he knew she gave him a wink as she added in a hush, “And I’ve got something special for both of you later. But first, I need to have a little chat with my boy, bueno? Then we can have all sorts of fun this weekend.”

Miguel’s expression didn’t lighten, only growing a little curious as his eyes flicked up to Héctor. All he got was a headshake before Mari turned back around, wide smile still in place.

“Have you eaten yet, mijo? I think it’s still early enough to get breakfast.”

Héctor blinked, then puffed out his cheeks as he ran his hands through his hair. “I, ah…This is…really sudden, Mamá. I mean, I still need to figure out sleeping arrangements and…”

A bright laugh trilled out of Mari. “Oh, no, no. Relájate, Teto, I’m staying in a hotel.” Ah, right. She always stayed in hotels.

Héctor shook his head. “Okay, okay, but still, Mamá. It’s a weekend, and Miguel needs someone to watch him, and…”

“And most people need to find babysitters instead of locking a kid in a room alone.”

Héctor’s head swiveled around at Ernesto’s sharp comment, giving him a warning glare that Ernesto pointedly ignored. Mari, however, seemed to completely ignore it.

“Ah! You do still live with Netito! You were so quiet, I didn’t see you there.”

Ernesto gave her a razor sharp smile, not at all dulled by the quarter-bottle of tequila in him. “That is one of your talents, I’ll give you that.”

“Ernesto.”

This time, Ernesto didn’t ignore Héctor, but he turned his back to Mari in order to give Héctor one of the most savage glares he’d ever seen. He didn’t say a word, but every inch of him silently shouted one thing: Kick her out!

Héctor wasn’t surprised at this reaction. How many times had he come crying to Ernesto over a “Maybe next time, Teto” letter when they were kids? How often had he vented about how unfair it was that he was stuck with tías and primos instead of having a normal family? The few times Mari had popped up, Ernesto had been at the ready to pull Héctor away when things got too difficult—it’d happened enough to spill into the rest of his life…even with Imelda.

Well, Ernesto was wrong about Imelda. So you know what? He might just be wrong about Mari, too.

“Nesto was actually just leaving, Mamá,” he said firmly, eyes cold and sharp as he met Ernesto’s without flinching. “He’s…got a shift he’s picking up. Right now.”

Ernesto looked as though he’d been slapped. Clearly he wasn’t expecting Héctor to stand up for himself. For a moment, a dark, ugly look crossed his face, but it was gone just as quickly. He composed himself and gave Héctor a cold smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“What a good friend I have to remind me,” he said, the words just above a hiss. “Though I really hate to leave you alone when your lovely mother’s just come in.”

Héctor straightened to his full height and used the full extent of his teacher voice as he said, “It’s a shame, but you have to go. Now.”

Ernesto stared at Héctor for a long moment, then gave a cold, humorless laugh as he held up his hands. “All right, Héctor. You win.” He gave Mari a smirk, then shot one last cold look at Héctor.

Héctor swallowed, surprised that he’d apparently gotten his point across. He added, a little more meekly, “You should probably walk.”

“I’ll jog.”

Miguel scrambled out of the way as Ernesto reached the door. Once he opened it, he turned back to look at Héctor, sending every bit of frustration in him through the look on his face. Then he let out a short, sharp sigh before he walked out the door, slamming it behind him. For a moment, all three Riveras were still, until Mari sighed and shook her head.

“Now that is a shame,” she said. “He was always so charming as a little boy. I hate when people turn antisocial.”

Héctor pressed his lips together, rubbing his forehead. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised at Ernesto’s behavior, not with the combination of their conversation this morning and Mari, but…seriously, would it have killed him to be civil? Well, let him pout on his walk. There were more important things to worry about.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out what to do with Miguel. He didn’t want to foist him on one of the abuelitas, but…he didn’t exactly want him there for his first talk with his mother in over five years. And he couldn’t turn Mari down; it might be another five years before she showed up again, and…he could do with a little closure.

Still. It’d be nice if he was a little more sober for this.

He sucked in a breath as he looked up at his mother, still clearly waiting for him to decide what to do, and he let it out as he pulled out his phone. “Give me a second, Mamá,” he said, already tapping out a text. “I’ve got someone who can watch Miguel, though she might not be happy about it.”

“So…let me run through this again. Your mother—who you haven’t seen since you graduated university—showed up on your doorstep this morning and wants to catch up.”

“Sí.”

“And Ernesto stormed out because he hates her.”

“…sí.”

“And you want me to watch Miguel while the two of you catch up.”

“Sí.”

Imelda stared up at Héctor for a long moment before she pressed her thumb above her eyebrow with a sigh. Well. That sure was a way to start an engagement, wasn’t it?

Initially, she’d been all warmth and giggles when she came downstairs after his “Come down? Por favor? <3” text, but hearing what had happened between Héctor leaving her apartment and now was edging her into La Directora mode. She looked up at Héctor, taking in his expression. His lips were thinned, his face was tight; he looked almost as nervous as he’d been the night before. She sighed, then looked up at him with a small smile.

“Well, we’re getting married, aren’t we? That entails meeting your mother at some point; I guess it’s just sooner rather than later.” Her smile widened slightly as Héctor visibly relaxed, and she set her hands on his arms as she stood up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. Immediately, she wrinkled her nose. “Why do you taste like tequila?”

Héctor blinked, then gave her an awkward half-smile, half-grimace. “That’s…another long story. It’s been a morning, diosa.”

“I can see that.” She took one of his hands, holding it between her own and squeezing it tightly. “Well, hopefully once you talk with your mother, the rest of the weekend can be peaceful.” She brought his hand up to kiss it. “And maybe we can get breakfast tomorrow.”

“That sounds per-fec-to, Imelda.” Héctor smiled warmly at her, then shifted as the smile faded. “I…should warn you. Mamá isn’t like Tía Elena. As in, she’s almost the complete opposite, and so she can be a little…” He squinted. “Intense.”

“Mi amor, you forget that I deal with all kinds of parent all the time.” She smiled and gave his cheek a pat, then took his hand and tugged him back to the door. She peeked around best she could as she opened the door up, trying to catch a glimpse of Mariana Rivera before they were spotted. Ah, perfecto, she was on the sofa, talking to Miguel.

And…she was absolutely nothing like Imelda expected.

In hearing the odd snippets about Héctor’s childhood, she’d always imagined his mother as a cold, shut-off woman with a heavy air of disinterest in others (and maybe a little too much Botox). And it was clear that Mariana had showier taste than both her sister and her son, with that obviously expensive dress and more makeup than probably necessary. But watching her talk to Miguel, she was all warmth and smiles, brown eyes sparkling as she watched the boy open up a little package.

Looking at her now, there was no doubt at all that Héctor was her son.

“Is this a flute?” Miguel asked, pulling out a thin, brightly colored tube.

“Sí, yes, such a smart boy!” Mariana crooned. “Sí, mijo, all the way from Cancún—that’s my favorite place to stay, you know. And I know it’s the perfect gift for someone who’s shaping up to be a fine musician.” She raised her eyebrows. “And from what Lenita’s said, that’s true of you, sí?”

Miguel’s whole face lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “It is! Tío Héctor’s been teaching me so much!”

“Oh, I’m sure he has! He was a lot like you at your age, you know.”

Imelda could feel Héctor shift uncomfortably behind her, head automatically swiveling back to look at him. Before she could say anything, though, a soft gasp from Mariana sent her head whipping back around.

“Ohhh, mi corazón…is this her?” In one fluid motion, Mariana was up on her feet and walking toward them, eyes bright as she reached out to set her hands on Imelda’s arms. “Is this La Directora?”

Imelda stiffened at the touch, but looked up at Mariana curiously. “You…know about me?”

“Por su-puesto! You’re all my Teto could write about last year…well, before he decided to up and stop last spring. And with what Lenita said about shoes…” From behind, Imelda could hear Héctor let out a sharp little noise. Mariana shut her mouth so quickly her teeth clicked, but gave Imelda a warm smile. “Perdonamé, I didn’t bring anything for you, linda. I wasn’t sure what your status was after Teto’s last letter.”

Imelda gave a thin smile. Well, she wasn’t the subtlest woman, but subtleness didn’t seem to be a Rivera trait in general. Even so, she seemed nice enough. Maybe she wasn’t as bad as everyone had said. She looked up as Héctor set his hands on her shoulders.

“Really quick, Imelda, this is my mother, Mariana…”

“Oh, but call me Mari.”

“…and Mamá, this is my…girlfriend, Imelda.” He gave Imelda’s shoulders a squeeze and the top of her head a quick, grateful kiss, then edged back toward the bathroom. “Now that we’re all introduced, I’m going to go get ready, and then you and I can go out, Mamá.” He stopped for just a moment to give Miguel’s hair a ruffle—as if reassuring him that he hadn’t been forgotten in all the fuss—then slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.

Mari gave Imelda a wide, sunny smile, then returned to Miguel’s side. She watched as Miguel looked over the flute, then crooned out, “Ay, que preciOsooo…” as she immediately went to pepper kisses to his cheeks. She pulled back, though, as Miguel twisted away from her automatically, leaving her blinking in surprise. Imelda held back a laugh—she’d been to enough school events to know the awkward-tía-dodge when she saw it. She lightly sat in the armchair nearby, smiling at Mari.

“Well, it certainly is nice to meet you, Mari,” she said. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

Mari’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, you have? What have people said?”

Oh. She hadn’t expected that. She never sees how she hurts those around her was the first thing that popped into her head, but instead of that, she politely said, “Well, I…heard you’re a bit of a free spirit.”

Mari laughed. “Well, whoever told you so is right. I’ve never liked staying in any place for long. That’s…changing a bit now, but staying in the one place, having one job?” She shuddered. “No, no. I can’t see how anyone could do it.” She paused, then added with a shy smile, “No es por ofenderte, linda.”

Imelda gave her another thin smile. “Está bien.”

“And you run the school Teto works at, no? Ay, that sounds tough. I never had the patience for school. I don’t think most people need it, really.”

Miguel frowned slightly. “Then how would you learn?”

Mari grinned at him. “By living, cielito! That’s how people used to do it. Think about it—do you really need to know times tables to be a musician?”

“Perhaps not, but you do need it to function in the real world,” Imelda said shortly.

Mari’s eyes widened, and all at once a wide, entreating smile that perfectly matched Héctor’s foot-in-mouth-grin crossed her face. “Well, of course, you should stay in school, Miguelito. You’re still learning the essentials.” She went to pat his head, but again he dodged out of the way.

Imelda crossed her legs, being very careful to keep her face pleasantly neutral. “Well, I’m pleased to see that attitude doesn’t run in the family, or else I’d be missing one of my best teachers,” she said. She smiled, eyes fixed very hard on Mari. “if you’d like, I’d allow for you to sit in on one of his classes. He’s really in his element with the students.”

Mari was unphased. “Ah, que dulce, but I can’t. I have some business in Morelia I’m setting up this week. That’s why I’m visiting, actually!”

That sentence made every bit of Imelda bristle—both for her fiancé’s sake and as an educator. It was like Mari saw Héctor as…an afterthought. It didn’t matter that he was nearly thirty, that sort of attitude towards a child needed to be dealt with swiftly and thoroughly.

She’d just opened her mouth to tell Mari off when the door to the bathroom swung open and Héctor bustled out, pushing his wet hair back as he did.

“Okay, ready, we’re just about good to go, Mamá.” He stopped at the sofa, hand on the arm as he pulled his left shoe on properly, though he paused as he looked at Miguel. “What’ve you got there, chamaco?”

“A flute.” Miguel held up the flute in question.

“Qué padre. I think I still have the one Mamá gave me when I was around your age.” He dropped his foot and gave Miguel’s hair another ruffle with a grin. “We should try a duet when I come back home.” He turned back to Mari. “Ready to go? There’s a really nice café down the street we go to all the time. We can head there if that’s okay?”

Mari grinned. “That’s perfect, mi corazón.” She got to her feet, sneaking a pat to Miguel’s head in before she turned to Imelda. “Very nice to finally meet you, Imelda.”

“Likewise,” Imelda said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. Over Mari’s head, Héctor mouthed a quick “Nuevamente, gracias!” before ushering his mother out. Mari gave one last wave and grin to Miguel, and then the door shut behind them. Imelda felt as if a whirlwind had left the room, and for a moment, she and Miguel sat in silence. Finally, she let out a breath, tilting her head as she saw Miguel frowning at his flute.

“Do you not like it?” she asked.

Miguel pressed his lips together. “Last May, we all went down to Puerto Vallarta, and I saw a flute just like this. I waned it really bad, but Abuelita wouldn’t let me get it.”

“Oh?”

“She yelled at the guy running the stand. ‘You’re trying to trick children into buying this basura túristica? How do you sleep at night?’” he said, doing a fairly decent imitation of Elena. He frowned at the flute, then looked up at Imelda. “It can’t be that bad though, right?” Imelda shrugged, and Miguel looked back down at it before raising it to his lips and blowing hard. Both he and Imelda jumped at the noise that came out of it, and he shook his head with a grimace. “I think I like my guitar better.”

Imelda chuckled, slipping off her shoes to curl up on the chair. “I think I do, too.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “And what do you think of your Tía Mari?”

He squinted. “She’s…interesting.”

“Interesting?”

Miguel shrugged, fiddling with the flute quietly. “Ernesto didn’t seem to like her very much.”

“There’s a lot of people I’ve heard Ernesto doesn’t like. That doesn’t mean much.”

Miguel looked up at her. “Do you like her?”

Imelda blinked in surprise at the question. She bit her lip, then shrugged. “I don’t know her well enough. This is my first time meeting her, too.”

Miguel’s brow furrowed, and he set the flute down on the coffee table. “I thought she was dead.”

“What?”

“A while ago, I mean. Tío Héctor always talked about growing up with my papá in Santa Cecilia, and how he’d get in trouble with Abuelita or watch telenovelas with Tía Victoria. But he didn’t ever talk about his mamá or papá. So I thought they…I thought he was like me.” He frowned as he settled back on the sofa. “But then on Día de los Muertos, I asked if they were on the ofrenda and he said no. I think he was gonna tell me more, but he did that thing where he switches the subject really fast instead.” He looked up at Imelda, face tentatively curious. “Is Tía Mari…bad? Is that why Tío Héctor stayed with Abuelita? She seems nice, but…” He shrugged.

Imelda’s mouth tugged back in a small grimace. Kids, she knew, could understand conversations about unfit parents and unconventional families, especially at Miguel’s age. So if she explained that sometimes people have kids they’re not ready for, he’d get what happened to Héctor. But…that’d be uncomfortable with Mari hanging around, even if it was just for the weekend. Plus…it really felt like the kind of conversation Héctor should have with Miguel himself.

So instead, she got up and sat beside Miguel on the sofa, pulling him to lean against her. Unlike with Mari, he did so immediately.

“I don’t think she’s a bad person,” she said. “But she might still be learning how to be a good mamá.”

“But she’s old.”

“For some people, Miguel, it’s something they need to learn throughout their whole lives.” She looked down at him. “And both of us need to be extra nice to Tío Héctor this weekend. I think he’s going to need it.”

Miguel nodded, the determined look on his face clearly saying he was up to the task. Though after a moment, he grimaced.

“Though do I have to do a flute duet with him? I really don’t like mine.”

Imelda chuckled. “I think he’ll understand.”

She squeezed Miguel to her side. Despite what she said, she couldn’t quite believe that Mari was quite a good person, either. Imelda wasn’t Miguel’s mother, no, but the thought of dumping him—or any kid, really—on family made her a little sick. And very angry. She might be pleasant now, but if Mari’s visit didn’t have at least some form of apology, Imelda was going to have a very long talk with her future mother-in-law.

From the sound of it, it might even be the only thing she and Ernesto agreed on.

“I was right, wasn’t I? The coffee here is some of the best in the country.”

Mari smiled and nodded as she took a sip. “Mm, very true, mi corazón.” She raised her eyebrows and smiled knowingly around the cup. “And it’s very good for sobering up, I’m sure.”

Héctor’s smile dropped, and he looked up at his mother sheepishly. “Is it that obvious?”

“Even if you hadn’t still had the tequila out on the table, Teto, I’ve had enough hangovers in my life to know what they look like.” Mari chuckled as she set her cup down. “But I’m not going to fault you. After all, you’ve got a lot on your mind, I’m sure. When I called Lenita, she told me all about how you’ve taken care of Miguel. And the shoes.” Her lips drew together slightly in a pout as she sent Héctor an accusing look. “And while I’m happy for you, mijo, I’m a little hurt that I had to hear from her.”

Héctor grimaced, pushing a hand through his hair. “Lo siento, Mamá. I meant to write, but…everything’s just happened so fast, there’s been no time to think.”

“I know, mijo, I know.” Mari’s voice was soft as she leaned forward with a little smile. “I’ve heard how much you’ve been doing with Miguel, and on top of your job and your music career, too. It’s amazing, Héctor. You should be proud.”

Héctor glanced up at her, then gave a little laugh before finishing his coffee and setting his cu down. “Well, maybe I will be when I’m less tired.” He looked up as Mari set her hand over his, squeezing it tightly.

“Then I’ll be proud enough for the both of us.”

Héctor’s eyebrows rose, and he swallowed at the sudden wave of emotion that hit him, throat suddenly too tight to speak. Mari gave him a warm smile, then looked down with an unusually soft laugh.

“You know, I turned fifty this year, Teto. Can you believe that? I’m already an old woman.”

“Mamá. Fifty’s not that old.”

“You only say that because you’re young, mijo.” She gave him a knowing smile, then leaned back and looked over him for a long, silent moment—studying him, it seemed.

Héctor did his best to keep from squirming under her gaze, finally leaning forward when he couldn’t take it any longer. He looked at his mother seriously, the slight trembling in his voice giving away his discomfort as he asked, “What’s the matter, Mamá? Are you…are you sick?”

Mari chuckled and shook her head, smiling as Héctor let out a relieved sigh. “No, no, mi corazón. No, I’m fine. Just…” She looked down, smile fading. “I’ve missed so much of your life. And now here you are, a young man who’s setting the course for his life.” She swallowed, brown eyes glistening as she looked up at Héctor. “I’m so sorry, Héctor. I should have been there.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked from his lungs, like a thunderbolt had hit him. It had been a very, very long time since he’d seen his mother as a beautiful thing he was privileged to see when she appeared. Too many broken promises, too many missed visits, too many years getting trinkets instead of the time he’d desperately wanted had passed between them. But even when he’d idolized her, he’d never, ever dream of hearing an apology. Not genuinely. Not like this.

How was he even supposed to respond?

His throat had tightened to the point that each breath felt like a struggle, but Mari didn’t wait for an acceptance before she took his hands and met his gaze with serious eyes.

“I can’t undo the past, mijo. But I want to be there for you now. Your whole life is ahead of you, and I want to see the marvelous places you’ll go.”

Héctor didn’t even think. He was around the table in one breath, arms hugged tight around his mother in the next. In the past, Mari would delicately unlatch him from her when he did this; this time, she held onto him just as tightly.

This must be a dream. It had to be. Héctor already had a soon-to-be son and a soon-to-be wife. Getting his ever-absent, ever-loved (because despite the pain, he’d never stopped loving her) mother into his life seemed downright greedy to hope for. But…well, maybe he could be greedy. Just this once.

Finally, he pulled away from her, pushing the heel of his hand against his eyes. “What…what do you mean, exactly, though? Are you visiting more? A-are you staying close by?”

Mari smiled. “Well, I have a friend who lives in Morelia, and he’s agreed to let me stay for a little while starting on Monday. After that, we’ll see where we go, mi corazón.” She stood up, smiling warmly as she cupped his face. “Like I said, mijo. I’m so, so proud of you, and I love you so, so much.” She laughed lightly as she pat his cheek. “But you also look half-dead even with your coffee, so I think I’d best let you rest.”

Héctor managed a strangled little laugh. “I’m exhausted.”

“I know, I know.” She gave him a wink. “But before I let you go, I don’t want you thinking I’ve forgotten my tradition of giving you a present.” She pulled away, opening her purse and digging around for a moment. Finally, she drew out a little rectangle of thick paper. “Ah, aquí está.” She held it out to him. “Your present, Teto.”

Héctor sniffed before taking it, looking it over curiously. It was a business card, it seemed, with a name and number he didn’t recognize and an address in Morelia. “What is it?”

“This is the friend I’ll be staying with, Andres. He’s very nice, which is fine enough, but more importantly…” She took the card and flipped it around. Héctor’s eyes widened as he saw the back, and her grin widened. “He’s an agent with Discos Fénix.”

Héctor blinked several times, eyes flicking back and forth between the card and his mother. Discos Fénix? He let out a strained puff of air that was almost a laugh. “We…we’ve been trying to get signed by them for ages.”

“Qué casualidad! Well, then it might be fun for you to drop by,” Mari said. She handed him the card, then pat Héctor’s arm with a wide grin. “The whole world’s ahead of you, mijo. Don’t forget that.” She pulled him down to press a kiss to his forehead. “And from now on, you’ll have me right there with you for the whole ride.”

#coco teacher!AU #hector teacher au #pixar coco #coco fic #teacher au

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catstrophysics · 5 years ago

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cold hands, warm heart

hiya again! here’s another one of my fics, cross-posting from AO3. this one’s tododeku (My Hero Academia), and like... ridiculously fluffy. check tags in the, well, tags, and the link to it on AO3 is at the bottom. read below the cut! hope you like it. (word count: 1,244)

Izuku hadn’t been expecting Todoroki to show up today, hadn’t been expecting his friend to stalk through the door as curfew approached with murder in his eyes and a thunderstorm written across his posture, heavy black clouds gathering in the way his shoulders held square to the world.

He looked tired, as had become standard. The hours of school had been weighing on him, pouring responsibility and stress onto his frame. Winter was coming to UA, and the heroes with fiery Quirks had been layering on jackets to keep their abilities from stagnating. Despite Todoroki’s icy half, his left side still meant that cold weather and dreary skies resulted in misery for several months. It was simply too hard for him to regulate all the time, and Izuku knew this all too well. He grinned nonetheless at his gloomy expression.

“Hey, Shouto, how’re you doing?”

His upbeat words and bright grin, beaming the full force of his concentrated sunny disposition into Todoroki’s face, were nevertheless insufficient to bring a tiny smile to the boy’s cheeks. Izuku wilted, setting aside his homework to face the much more pressing issue.

“Cold. Would it be alright if I borrowed your sweatshirt?” Todoroki blurted out, standard composure shattering into shards as he tugged his three layers of clothing tighter around his body, pulling the black-and-white flannel on top closed all the way. “It’s getting cold and I know you have an extra one,” he continued, but Izuku was already standing and making his way to the closet.

He started to dig through the disorganized clothes, pushing aside old prototypes of his hero costume and identical copies of his school uniform as he searched.

“Didn’t expect you here for a few more weeks, Shouto,” he said, head half-buried between t-shirts and a row of sweatpants, “usually you go to Iida first when it gets chilly.”

Izuku failed to mention his glee that Todoroki was coming to him, wanted his clothes to keep comfortable rather than Iida’s, that customarily fit better. It sent a possessive spark through him, one that he quickly quashed. They were friends, that’s all, and Iida was probably busy, or had turned him down this winter. The boy had caught his eye immediately, the way a diamond in the rough does, the same brutal flash of light and intense competence obvious in his reputation. Todoroki was off-limits at UA, that much was clear from the first day’s exam. Once their friendship began to grow, daffodils of trust forcing through the snowmelt still laying heavy between them, Izuku’s insignificant feelings had grown and grown until he caught himself staring, reaching out to him for help.

“Stole one of your jackets last cold snap, and you didn’t notice. I figured it’s better to ask.” Todoroki settled himself onto Izuku’s bed, pulling the covers off the edge and around his shoulders.

Oh. That was far from what Izuku had expected, but it was better than nothing. “Hey, it’s gonna be really cold tonight, are you okay for that?” The sun was already slipping behind the trees outside, and Izuku, who left the windows in his dorm open to study, felt the air drop another degree as the sky inched closer to twilight. “You can steal a few of my sweatshirts, if you need, I’ve got a ton,” he added, as he triumphantly pulled a stack of them from a box in the back.

He brought them over to the bed, where Todoroki had cocooned himself in every single one of Izuku’s many blankets in a matter of seconds. It was almost pitiful, red-and-white hair disheveled from tucking the blankets around his ears, and he looked dolefully up at Izuku.

“Can I stay here for a bit instead?” he asked, the beginnings of a smile creeping onto his lips. “Your blankets are really warm and it smells nice in here.”

To Izuku, his dorm room smelled the same it always had, a combination of sleep-warmed blankets and his mother’s cinnamon cookies, familiar but not noteworthy.

“It smells like you,” Todoroki added, rosebud blush crawling up his cheeks from his neck. He curled the blanket around his shoulders even more tightly and looked as if he’d rather be somewhere very, very different, miles away from the boy before him. Then Izuku grinned and hurled himself onto the bed beside him, reaching for the extra blanket under the bed.

“If you need to be warm, then maybe we should, um,” he began, but faltered as horror crept onto Todoroki’s face. His eyes blew wide, and Izuku redirected. “Never mind, would you like some tea? Coffee? Hot coco—”

“I’d love to cuddle with you, if you don’t mind too terribly. It really is quite chilly in here.” He raised one arm, blankets draping off of it, and nodded. “Come on over.”

The two boys squashed together, all pointy elbows and wrong angles at first as Todoroki’s cold hands sought out Izuku’s warmth. They wrapped blankets around themselves, feet hanging off the edge still but the heat from their pressed-together shoulders more than sufficing. Even the rapidly cooling air wafting through the window, bringing the aroma from the jasmine outside, wasn’t enough to make them separate. Izuku rested his chin on Todoroki’s shoulder, breathing in the boy’s scent.

He smelled like peppermint, Izuku thought, but rounded out with something else. It wasn’t the cold, harsh bite of peppermint like the winter storms that tossed icy sleet against the windows and howled mournful notes around the corners of the buildings. Peppermint like sharing gum during class, peppermint like a candycane, peppermint like a seasonal mocha. Warm, safe, constant peppermint.

He was also shivering still, gently trembling but trembling nonetheless. Izuku snuck his hand out from where it had been pressed against his side and reached for Todoroki’s hand. He jolted away when their fingers brushed, inhaling sharply and smacking his shoulder into Izuku’s jawbone.

“Sorry, Shouto, but you’re still freezing. Let me help,” he said as he grabbed his hand and started to run soft fingers over his wrist. His skin was chilly to the touch, and was entirely limp as Izuku rubbed warm hands over his.

“Can we just…” Todoroki started.

“Just what?”

“Just this,” he said, and wrapped one arm around Izuku’s shoulders as he closed long, graceful fingers over the smaller boy’s hand.

Sitting together in the half-light as the world outside tucked itself in for the night was peaceful. The winter was coming, faster than either of them could possibly imagine, but cold hands turned warmer and the sun slipped under the horizon.

They stayed, just like that, breathing each other in, until Todoroki broke the silence.

“Can I take one of these to class instead of a jacket?” he asked, holding up a handful of blanket.

Izuku considered for a moment. “Aizawa probably wouldn’t mind much, I mean,” he said, and a glimmer of mischief crept into his eyes, “he wears a blanket to class almost every day.”

The two boys broke apart, laughing wildly.

The clock turned to 9:30, just before curfew, and Todoroki gathered up an armful of cinnamon-warmth blankets. “Thank you, Izuku,” he said, lifting up the blankets, “for this, and for everything else.”

Izuku blinked, startled. “Of-of course! Anytime! And,” he added, “if you ever need anyone to warm you up again, you know where to come.”

He slid off the bed and met Todoroki in one last hug. “See you tomorrow, Shouto. Stay warm.”

AO3 link

#tododeku #fluff #cold hands warm heart #cuddling #sweatshirt borrowing #fiction #fanfiction #my fanfiction #fanfic #my fic #bnha fic #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki x izuku #archive of our own

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kusunogatari · 5 years ago

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[ ObiRyū October | Day Fourteen: Storm ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: White Hands of Healing ] [ Previous || Next ]

In all fairness, the weather in the valley is typically what most would call gloomy on the best of days. Rain occurs more often than not, and sunny days are almost always peppered with showers. And when the cold air of the mountain peaks falls into the heated air of the volcanic vale, storms are bound to happen.

The pair have managed to escape Konoha, with a whole week free of the village. It took quite a bit of effort on Kakashi’s part to get the other Kage to allow it. But with Ryū serving as what may as well be Obito’s official keeper, he got them to relent so long as she kept an eye on things.

She makes a mental note to thank him more properly when they get back.

But for now, they’re tucked up in the mountains for the first time since the war. And even as it starts to rain, Ryū’s enthusiasm can’t be curbed. Home at last…!

As they make it to the head of the pass, looking into the valley below, she practically glows with happiness. “Look, there it is!”

Fog clings to the valley floor, but one can still barely make out the manor at the tail end. A few more miles, and they’ll be able to tuck in out of the rain.

Obito then comes up behind her, taking in the view. He’s really only seen it once, when he had to bring her here on foot. It’s...not a pleasant memory, so he’s glad to see it in better context this time around. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just use Kamui to teleport here...it would have saved so much time.”

“I know, but...until they ease up the restrictions on your chakra, we’ll just have to do things the old fashioned way,” Ryū replies with a weary smile. “...at least we got some exercise, ne?”

Obito doesn’t reply, just looking a touch grumpy.

Taking his hand, she leads him down the path and into the vale. “...you know...those clouds are starting to look rather dark...I think we’re in for a storm…”

“Really?”

“Mhm. We get quite a few during the more extreme months - both Summer and Winter. Something to do with the air temperature, but...I’m no weather expert.”

“So...we better get inside, huh?”

“Yeah, before it starts to - hey!” Squawking in surprise, Ryū latches onto Obito’s neck as he just...scoops her up. “What are you -?”

He simply grins, and starts sprinting toward the manor as the rain gets even heavier. Thunder rumbles like a giant taiko drum above them. Laughing and drenched, Ryū just holds on for dear life until they make it onto the engawa. The pair of them drip as they stand, Obito setting her back on her feet as they watch the rain fall and drizzle off the roof.

“Holy smokes!” Mopping her face with a hand, Ryū stares gleefully at the downpour. And her eyes get bright as lightning forks and thunder claps.

“...I didn’t realize you like this weather that much.”

“It’s just...part of being home. Konoha hardly ever gets any rain or storms compared to here. And it doesn’t really get any snow, either. So weather like this just makes me feel...at home.”

Obito watches her from the corner of his eye, seeing the genuine joy on her face. Looks like that have been fewer and farther between since the war. “...well, we better get dried off and warmed up before we get sick, hm?”

“Yeah, true...hopefully nothing got too wet in our packs!”

They head upstairs to the master quarters, unpacking their things and thankfully finding them mostly dry. Anything a bit damp is hung up to air out. Pulling off his mantle, Obito gives Ryū a glance as she disrobes. Even now, he still double checks her skin to ensure it really is completely devoid of marks.

“Nosy.”

The jesting remark makes him jerk slightly in surprise, seeing her looking over her shoulder at him coyly. “Er...sorry.”

“You’re the last person I mind seeing me like this,” she assures him with a light laugh. Nonetheless, Ryū softens, closing the gap between them. With all of Obito’s security arrangements, there hasn’t been much time for them to be together, let alone to any degree intimately. “...they really are gone.”

Taking that as a kind of permission, Obito gently smooths a hand along her side, finding the surface unmarked. “...guess it’s just a hard image to get out of my mind.”

“I can only imagine...I never got to see them as you did. But everything seems to be back to normal, as far as I’ve been able to tell these past six months. No fatigue, no marks...it’s like it never even happened.”

That earns a small furrow of his brow. “...there was more to that experience than the poison and the wounds.”

“Mm...I suppose. Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet. I just...haven’t really thought about it.” Ryū gives him another glance. “...I’ve had bigger things on my mind since then.”

“Bigger things than your own well-being?”

That earns a sly smile. “Don’t you know how I operate by now? Others first, me second.”

Obito’s expression deepens, but more into a pout than a scowl. “Well for me, it’s you first, me second.”

“I believe that puts us at a stalemate, then.”

They stare at one another, Obito pouting and Ryū’s arms folding stubbornly. After a solid thirty seconds of tense silence, it breaks with a slew of giggles.

“Well...for right now, we don’t have to worry about it, ne? Because for the next few days, it’s just the two of us. And nothing’s going to go wrong while we’re here. Shishō will make sure of that.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” They can save such discussions for another time. For now, they’re on a bit of a vacation. No heavy thoughts until they’re back in Konoha. This is supposed to be a break from...well, everything really.

“I was going to suggest we go enjoy the hot springs, but...maybe once the rain lets up. Which I’m guessing won’t be until tomorrow…”

“That’s all right. Maybe today we’ll stay in and listen to the rain.”

“That...sounds like a lovely idea. I’ll get the fire going and try to ward off some of the cold.”

“I’d do it if I had my katon…”

“It won’t take me long.”

Soon enough there’s a crackling fire in the cooking pit at the center of the manor. While it works on heating the main rooms, Ryū and Obito instead move back out to the front porch. A stolen blanket is thrown around their backs, the pair of them nestled along the edge side by side. Sighing and leaning her head on his shoulder, Ryū goes slack in contentment. The rain is still pouring, thunder and lightning dueling in the skies. It’s such a familiar, soothing sound, she’s soon dozing.

Sensing as much, Obito gives her a questioning glance. How can she sleep through all that ruckus? Sure, the hike up here was tiring, but...it’s like someone’s dumping a bucket of bolts on the roof! If she’s really that wiped out...should he take her in for a nap?

Something, however, stays his acting, and he instead just remains where he is. It is, in a way, sort of relaxing. The smell of wet earth is strong, the front garden dancing with every strike of a raindrop.

“When this is all over…when you come back…would you…stay here with me…?”

The recalled question - from the night before he left for the war - makes Obito wilt. She wanted so desperately to leave everything behind. To come back here, live at peace away from shinobi, and villages, and war. And now she’s tethered back in Konoha just as much as he is. Because Obito knows she’d never consent to come back here unless he could go with her...and the Kage would surely never allow it.

...he’d promised her he would. But that was when he was certain their world would be replaced by dreams. Now that they’re still here, in this reality...he can’t really keep that oath.

At least...not now.

Eyes dropped to his lap, Obito glances up at a particularly loud clap of thunder. And even then, Ryū doesn’t wake - just settles against him a bit more comfortably with a happy sigh.

...maybe they can’t have everything they want. But for him, at least...she’s enough.

Flufffffffff. With a sprinkling of angst, cuz...you can't really avoid it past a certain point in the Distraction verse (which this is set in). Let these two go HOME. Heck Konoha, best village is Kusunokizan. It has a DRAGON. ...anyway xD Late posting cuz today was busy, but! I've got more writing to do, so that's it for now. Thanks for reading!

#obiryū october #abyssaldespair #uchiha obito #suigin ryū #white hands of healing [ canon verse ]

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pikapeppa · 6 years ago

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Colemance: Become Human

In which Cole and my youngest Inquisitor, Lyanna Lavellan, fall in love.

This little fic is two chapters; the second chapter includes NSFW smut. Now, I know that might not be some people’s thing, but... well, instead of going into a TED-talk-level rant about why I think this is entirely plausible, I shall just leave this fic here, and you can let me know what you think. 😊

Read on AO3 instead.

*********************

Cole walks through Skyhold largely unseen.

He’s not a ghost; this much he knows. He scares people still; this much he also knows. They jump when they spot him, eyes flying wide, strange boy, who is that, why doesn’t he speak, what’s wrong with him

He sheathes himself in the darkness, and soon they forget. But not her.

She sees him. Her eyes don’t slide over him like the others’ do; her attentive gaze snags on his face like burrs on soft clothing, catching and sticking, her smile broad, chestnut eyes that shine like the gilded gates of Val Royeaux.

She sees him.

Maybe he doesn’t belong here. Maybe he should sink back into the Fade like the Lord Seeker said. But Lyanna sees him, and that makes him real.

*********************

Cole holds his dagger loosely and waits in resignation for Lyanna’s judgment. The soldier’s pain is pulsing, pounding, breath rattling like rocks in a barrel, Maker take me, let it be done.

Cole corrects himself. Not Lyanna; Inquisitor. They call her Inquisitor, so he should call her Inquisitor too.

She frowns as she studies the soldier. The expression contorts the winding tattoo around her left eye, and Cole’s shoulders slump slightly. She disapproves; he can see it in her furrowed brow. She thinks he’s a murderer. But is he a murderer? Is it murder or mercy if the only other choice is pain that drags, pulls, sinks deep like swords through unprotected flesh? What would Rhys have thought? Would Rhys have been disappointed?

Inquisitor takes a deep breath and meets his gaze, and Cole is surprised: there’s no disapproval there after all. Her face is like an open door, and Cole doesn’t understand it.

“I think Solas is right about you,” she announces. Cole tilts his head in confusion; he’s not sure what Solas has to do with this, but before he can ask, she nods her head to the soldier. “Go on, Cole. Do what you think is best. I trust you.”

Cole stares at her. “You… trust me?”

She nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “If there’s really nothing more that can be done for him, then helping him die in peace is a mercy.”

He gapes at her more incredulously than ever. He’s the one who reads minds, the one who sees what people are thinking. No one sees his thoughts. Does she have special powers too?

The soldier’s ragged breath draws his attention anew. He kneels, then gently slides his blade into the soldier’s ailing heart. Dull bite of agony, then fading, washing clean, finally I can go home…

The soldier is gone. Cole carefully wipes his blade on the grass before sheathing it. He gazes down at Inquisitor, feeling awkward now that the deed is done. Other hurts are calling him, piercing pains big and small, but he’s held in place by the little elf and her big brown eyes.

She smiles. “Thanks, Cole. I’ll leave you to your, um, activities. We’ll talk later, okay?”

A dull wiggle of familiar disappointment writhes through his chest as he watches her leave. She won’t remember him. Most people never do. But perhaps it’s for the best. Rhys remembered, and it almost cost him his life. Evangeline remembered, and it did cost her her life.

Inquisitor won’t remember him. It’s for the best. He trudges toward the kitchen. Food is good for healing many kinds of hurts, and the kitchen is good place to start.

He slips down the stairs and tucks away the thought of Lyanna’s open smile like a secret. She probably won’t remember him, but hope alights like a tiny flame in his chest.

*****************

The world is big - much bigger than he thought it was, and everything is so new.

He trails behind Inquisitor as she moves through the Hinterlands healing every hurt she finds. There are lots of little hurts, and those are easy to fix: a lost goat named Jimmy who whispers good fortune; an errant vial of blood that glows a sickly red, returned to a lonely mage. The big hurts are harder to fix, gaping like unhealed gashes, frothing and fulminating with anger and pain: bandits, murderers, power-hungry apostates and cruel templars who are nothing at all like Evangeline.

Inquisitor helps the ones who hurt and stops the ones who hurt. She burns away despair one step at a time, and Cole hovers quietly at her shoulder with an unusual warmth blooming in his chest.

He doesn’t talk much during their travels. Vivienne and Sera don’t like it when he talks. He only wanted to help, to soothe the inky rivers in their thoughts, but they scowl and speak in pointed words, and he doesn’t want to bother them.

Inquisitor scowls too, but not at him. When they go to the Storm Coast, she brings Dorian and the Iron Bull instead. Cole still doesn’t speak very much, but when the others’ thoughts are so loud that his voice can’t help but join the voices of their minds, Dorian and the Iron Bull don’t frown and lash him with their tongues. They even ask him questions sometimes, and when he replies, Lyanna smiles. Her head tilts, her eyes wide and curious, and the warm feeling in his stomach expands like a bowl filling with hot soup.

No, not Lyanna. Inquisitor, he thinks. He has to try and remember. The others call her Inquisitor, so he should do the same.

At night when they return from their travels, she comes to visit him in the attic, and Cole is shocked every time she returns. She jokes that she has an excellent memory, and that must be true; he can’t understand why else she always knows to find him here. He doesn’t understand why she comes to spend time with him at all, but here they sit, her feet dangling and her smile broad as she perches on a pile of abandoned crates.

Sometimes she asks him questions, and he answers them the best he can. Expressions ripple across her face like waves on a pond as she listens to his replies, and he hopes he’s answering properly. He must be, because she always nods and asks another question.

Sometimes she doesn’t ask him anything all. Sometimes they sit in silence - or near-silence, at least; Cole sometimes has to speak when the whispers he hears crescendo into cries of pain, or when the despair of a thought threatens to swallow him whole. But Inquisitor doesn’t seem to mind. She gazes at him with wide eyes and asks him what he means, but try though he might, Cole usually can’t tell her. The thoughts are flighty, a whisper of agony or a jagged shard of pain that’s gone in the blink of an eye, and he worries that Inquisitor will be angry that he can’t explain.

But Inquisitor never gets angry. She gazes at him pensively then smiles, and they fall into silence again. At times she squeezes his arm - a gentle squeeze, not an angry grip like the templars - and he feels the heat of her slender fingers on his arm long after she leaves.

He listens to the thoughts as they cross her mind like the papers that slide across Josephine’s desk. She thinks of the people they know, the work they have to do, the porridge she ate for breakfast. But there’s a susurrus of sorrow underneath it all, and Cole wonders what made her sad.

Sometimes she travels without him, and Cole worries when she’s gone. There are bears out there, and bad people with weapons in hand and murder in their hearts. She carries two daggers on her back and wields them like extensions of her arms, but Cole still worries.

So he cloaks himself in shadows and follows. Just to make sure.

He concentrates hard to make sure he’s hidden. He knows some people don’t like to be followed, and he doesn’t want to anger her. But he has to make sure. He follows quietly, and he hides himself in the darkness, and she doesn’t even know he’s there.

Later, she comes to the attic and folds her arms. “So, Cole. You’ve been following us, haven’t you?”

He’s completely gobsmacked. How did she know?

He ducks his head in shame, but she’s smiling - how is she always smiling at him? - and he cautiously meets her eyes. “Yes,” he admits. “How… how did you know?”

She tilts her head thoughtfully. “I thought I saw you at the corner of my eye, but I thought I was imagining it. Then I caught Solas talking to himself. But he wasn’t talking to himself at all, was he? He was talking to you.”

Cole stares at her. She’s right; Solas did speak to him at one point today. But Solas is like a piece of home, his voice ringing with the fullness of both worlds. Cole understands why Solas speaks to him. He doesn’t understand why she does.

Before he can think twice, the question pours from his lips. “Why do you talk to me?” he says.

Her little smirk melts into an unguarded expression of surprise, and her thoughts suddenly ring in his mind: I’m lonely.

The thought is loud and dark, a stark contrast with her sunny disposition, and Cole blinks in confusion. “What?” he asks.

She tilts her head. “I said, you’re lonely. Aren’t you? You spend so much time alone. I just… I thought you could use a friend.” She drops her eyes, and the heavy feeling of her words deepens and gapes wide before she meets his eyes again. “You don’t mind my visits, do you?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’m glad to talk with you.”

She smiles at him, and the darkness behind her eyes wanes. Her shoulders relax as she sits in her usual spot on the crates behind him. “Good,” she says. “I like talking to you, too.”

Cole listens to the ebb and flow of her thoughts as she talks about Fairbanks’ mysterious past. The longer they talk, the more her sadness loosens and lifts and lightens until she rises to her feet.

“Goodnight, Cole,” she says. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nods. “Yes,” he says. He believes her. Most people forget him, their memories drifting apart like ashes from last night’s fire, but Lyanna always remembers.

*******************

The more time Lyanna spends with him, the more curious he becomes about the dark ribbon that weaves through her thoughts.

The darkness is usually faint, like a trace of dye in water. But it swells when she watches the Iron Bull and Dorian flirting with barbed words and tender thoughts. It swells when she gazes over the banister at couples kissing in the tavern below. In these moments, a name and a face swim through her thoughts - dark-haired, handsome, Ethanil - and her feelings curdle around this face like milk left in the sun too long.

“Lyanna, who is Ethanil?” he asks.

That unguarded expression washes across her face, and her thoughts are a sudden cacophony of pain. Oh no, I didn’t want you to know about this, I didn’t - he left me, he lied, he left me for her-

Cole blinks and stares at her, and she stares back before smiling, but her smile is all wrong. “You heard that, didn’t you?”

He shrugs helplessly, and Lyanna sighs before shoving her hands through her hair. “It’s okay, Cole. I know you can’t help it. Actually, it might be easier this way.” She sighs again, then looks him in the eye. “I know the others don’t love it when you listen in. But you can listen to this. Then I don’t have to talk about it.”

He watches her cautiously for a moment. She nods a silent confirmation, so Cole reaches out and touches her forehead.

I love him, and he loves me. ‘Let’s hunt together’, but he’s always busy. A new member of the clan, a new mage, older than me, prettier than me. Tired of being with a child, he doesn’t say it but I know it’s true. I’m a grown woman, I know what I want! ‘You’ll find someone else. You’re too young to settle down,’ he says, but I know what I want...

Her thoughts are hard and hammering, and Cole wrenches his hand from her forehead. She stares at him with shining eyes, and he stares back for a long moment before speaking.

“I can take it away,” he suggests.

She frowns slightly, so Cole explains. “It clogs, clumps, clotting in your chest. It clutches you and keeps you captive. I can loosen the claws.” She frowns more deeply, and Cole balks at the faint query that crosses her mind. “No,” he blurts. “Not like the Nightmare. Not like that! I don’t steal the pain. It doesn’t feed me. I help it to melt, like ice in the spring. That’s all. It’s not the same.”

She drops her eyes, and Cole is suddenly scared. He only wants to help, to smoothe her pain away, but if she thinks he’s like the Nightmare… but he’s not like the Nightmare, is he? The Nightmare tried to steal people’s fears… but is he doing that, too?

She lifts her gaze, then stuns him by reaching out to take his hand. “Thank you,” she says softly. “I know you want to help. But I think… I just need time.”

Her fingers are soft and gentle, and Cole swallows hard as she squeezes his hand gently. “Just give me some time,” she murmurs.

Her chestnut eyes are glowing again, but the despair is waning, washed away by a tentative warmth. Her thoughts are confusing, and he can’t help but listen in. I still love him, but he’s gone - Cole is so nice - we’re the same age, more appropriate - who cares about that, doesn’t matter, I like him - sweet and caring - big blue eyes - can spirits even feel…?

Cole doesn’t know what to say, so he nods.

A slow smile lights her face, sad but sweet. She steps close and kisses him on the cheek. “Goodnight, Cole,” she whispers.

Her voice is a gentle breeze against his cheek, and he feels it all the way down to his toes. Lyanna squeezes his hand one last time, then runs away down the stairs.

*********************

Time passes in jumps and starts. Cole notices its passage by the changing of the castle. Frescoes appear in the rotunda, and the walls glisten and gleam with one mosaic after the next. Frederic’s dragon eggs wriggle and wrench open, and Cole catches fish to feed the baby dragons.

As time goes on, Ethanil dissipates from Lyanna’s thoughts, and Cole is glad; Ethanil made her sad. His face sinks into the lesser parts of her mind as the dark ribbon in her thoughts fades and loosens. It seems that she was right, and that time is what she needed to help.

It’s a concept Cole has never thought much about.

To his surprise, he sees himself in her mind more often than not. He supposes it must be because they spend so much time together. They have supper together every night; she coaxes him down to the Great Hall and doesn’t seem bothered by the whispering people who ask why the Inquisitor is talking to herself. She teaches him to play cards, and she beams at him when she finds him playing wicked grace with Varric and the Iron Bull.

She stays in the attic with him until the deepest hours of the night, talking and listening in equal turn. On one particular night she falls asleep, her legs dangling off the edge of the crates and her head against his shoulder, so Cole carries her to bed.

He sifts into her bedroom, then gently lays her on the bed. But before he can leave, she reaches out and grasps his wrist. “You don’t have to go,” she says softly. “You can stay here.”

Cole eyes her quizzically. “Stay here?”

“Yes,” she mumbles. She tugs his wrist, then shifts over in the bed and pats her pillow. “Let’s talk some more.”

Her eyes are closed and her mind is drifting with dreams, and Cole isn’t sure she can hold much of a conversation. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to leave. “All right,” he agrees. Gingerly he slides onto the bed, then sits back against the headboard with his legs crossed.

He folds his hands in his lap and waits quietly, wondering what Lyanna will talk about next. But instead of speaking, she shifts closer to him.

She snuggles her head against his chest and releases a little sigh. Her arms are curled against her chest, her fists tucked under her chin like a sleeping child. She’s warm against his side, like a campfire or a blanket but nicer somehow, and he holds himself absolutely still. He worries that if he moves, she’ll jerk away like a startled halla.

He doesn’t move a muscle as she gently rubs her cheek against his chest. “Your leathers smell,” she mutters. “Like blood and dirt. You should probably wash them.”

“I smell?” he says in dismay.

“I didn’t say that,” she replies. She places one hand on his chest, then pushes herself up and tilts her face toward his neck.

Her nose brushes his neck ever so lightly, and he feels the sound of her inhale. A shiver of heat runs down his spine and pools in his belly. His entire body goes tense at the unusual sensation, and suddenly he can’t breathe.

Lyanna slides down to rest her head against his chest again. “Your leathers smell, but you don’t,” she clarifies. “It’s strange. You don’t smell like anything at all.”

He can’t speak. There’s no air in his chest. That shiver of heat is pulsing inside of him, strange but not at all unpleasant, and he wonders how long it will last.

Lyanna’s breathing becomes heavy and slow against his side, and he can tell from the gentle ebb of her thoughts that she’s fallen asleep. That odd heat in his belly eventually melts away, and Cole’s gaze drifts around the room; he’s explored most of the castle, but he’s never been up here before.

His eyes fall on a small dog-eared book on Lyanna’s night-table. Carefully and slowly, not wanting to disturb her, he reaches for the book and opens it.

It’s a journal, he realizes, written in her neat and loopy handwriting. Curious, Cole begins to read.

4 Nubulis 9:40

COLE: my age (~20 years?), blond hair, blue eyes, haunted-looking. Solas says he��s a spirit and we may forget him. DON’T FORGET!! He helps people.

5 Nubulis 9:40

Found Cole in the attic at the tavern. Does he sleep there? (does he even sleep? ask Solas.)

Had a mage friend named Rhys, and a templar friend named Evangeline. (forbidden romance? intriguing.) They abandoned him when they learned he was a spirit.

Cole is lonely.

**ALWAYS CHECK THE ATTIC AT THE END OF THE DAY.

6 Nubulis 9:40

He stole cheese from the kitchens. Can’t explain why. (funny!!) Must ask around, figure out where cheese has gone?

Dual dagger fighter, like me! Train together?

Killed the Lord Seeker Lambert. Dangerous but just. Good.

7 Nubulis 9:40

He likes nugs. SO CUTE.

Told him about aravels and how we use them. HE CAN MOVE AROUND BY MAGIC!! (kind of? is it magic or a spirit thing? ask Solas??) Wonder if he can do that while carrying people?

8 Nubulis 9:40

DO NOT TAKE COLE OUT WITH VIVIENNE AND SERA. THEY ARE MEAN.

The book goes on, pages and pages for every month they’ve spent together. An odd sense of vertigo washes over him as he realizes what this is: a log of every time they’ve spoken. This is how she remembers him: reminders to herself, facts to refresh her mind if her memories start to dim.

He clutches the book tightly in his fist, then reverently returns it to her night-table. She shifts slightly in her sleep and sighs, and her fist slides out from beneath her chin to rest limply against his chest.

He breathes quietly in the dark. Then he gently takes her hand in his.

Her fist uncurls unconsciously at his touch, and he slides his fingers into hers. Dawn will come soon, and sleeping minds will start to call for help. But for now, Cole will enjoy this silence.

Read Chapter 2 on AO3.

#cole #cole dragon age #ghost of the spire #colemance #colemance fic #pikapeppa writes

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happy-party-train · 6 years ago

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My personal Love Live song ranking

This list is excluding The Guided Fate Paradox Character Song Album

1 Evergreen 2 New winding road (Mari) 3 GALAXY HidE and SeeK (AZALEA) 4 Step! ZERO to ONE 5 Tokimeki Bunruigaku (AZALEA) 6 Oh, Love&Peace! 7 Fuyu ga Kureta Yokan (BiBi) 8 Pianoforte Monologue (Riko) 9 Wonderful Rush 10 HAPPY PARTY TRAIN 11 Mattete Ai no Uta 12 Strawberry Trapper (Guilty Kiss) 13 Natsuiro Egao de 1, 2, Jump! 14 Thank you, FRIENDS!! 15 Mijuku DREAMER 16 Humming Friend 17 Kowareyasuki (Guilty Kiss) 18 Hop Step Waai! 19 Torikoriko PLEASE!! (AZALEA) 20 Crash Mind (Saint Snow) 21 Self Control (Saint Snow) 22 Manatsu wa Dare no Mono? (Ruby&Dia) 23 Taiyou wo Oikakero! 24 Beginner's Sailing (You) 25 Yuuki wa doko ni? Kimi no Mune ni! 26 Koi ni Naritai AQUARIUM 27 Over the Next Rainbow (Saint Aqours Snow) 28 Landing action Yeah!! 29 Believe Again (Saint Snow) 30 Thrilling One-Way 31 Daydream Warrior 32 G Senjou no Cinderella (3rd Years) 33 Silent tonight (BiBi) 34 soldier game (Umi&Maki&Eli) 35 Paradise Live 36 Nawatobi (Hanayo) 37 Arifureta Kanashimi No Hate (Eli) 38 Sunshine Pikkapika Ondo 39 Next SPARKLING!! 40 Anata no Risou no Heroine (Shizuku) 41 Meccha Going!! (Ai) 42 Omoi yo Hitotsu ni Nare 43 Natsu no Owari no Amaoto ga (Chika&Kanan) 44 Sotsugyou Desune (AZALEA) 45 WHITE FIRST LOVE (Dia) 46 Sakana ka Nanda ka? (Kanan) 47 Kiseki Hikaru 48 in this unstable world (Yoshiko) 49 Awaken the power (Saint Aqours Snow) 50 Mermaid festa vol.1 51 Dropout (Saint Snow) 52 WATER BLUE NEW WORLD 53 Daisuki dattara Daijoubu! (2nd Years) 54 Yozora wa Nandemo Shitteru no? (CYaRon!) 55 CHASE! (Setsuna) 56 Daring!! (Maki) 57 Genki Zenkai DAY! DAY! DAY! (CYaRon!) 58 Mou Hitori Janai yo (Honoka) 59 Yume no Tobira 60 Donna Toki mo Zutto 61 Garasu no Hanazono (Nozomi&Eli) 62 Yuuki No Reason (Umi) 63 SUNNY DAY SONG 64 Shangri-La Shower 65 Love marginal (Printemps) 66 Sora mo Kokoro mo Hareru kara (2nd Years) 67 Guilty Night, Guilty Kiss! (Guilty Kiss) 68 Yume Kataru yori Yume Utaou 69 LONELY TUNING (AZALEA) 70 PSYCHIC FIRE (BiBi) 71 Marine Border Parasol (2nd Years) 72 Hajimari Road (1st Years) 73 Korekara 74 Shunjou Romantic (lily white) 75 Natsu e no Tobira Never end ver. (Riko, Mari, Hanamaru) 76 Arashi no Naka no Koi dakara 77 Bokutachi wa Hitotsu no Hikari 78 UNBALANCED LOVE (Printemps) 79 Cutie Panther (BiBi) 80 START:DASH!! 81 LOVELESS WORLD 82 Datte Datte Aa Mujou 83 Kinmirai Happy End (CYaRon!) 84 Music S.T.A.R.T!! 85 Jimo Ai ? Mantan ? Summer Life (You&Yoshiko) 86 Kimi no Hitomi wo Meguru Bouken 87 MY Mai?TONIGHT 88 "MY LIST" to you! 89 Natsu, Owaranaide. (BiBi) 90 LONELIEST BABY 91 Nightingale Love Song (Printemps) 92 Ruteshi Kisuki Shiteru 93 Dreamin' Go! Go!! 94 Angelic Angel 95 Yosoku Fukanou Driving! (3rd Years) 96 HEART to HEART! 97 Hop? Stop? Nonstop! 98 Nemureru Mori ni Ikitai na (Kanata) 99 Yume de Yozora o Terashitai (1st & 2nd Years) 100 Aozora Jumping Heart 101 Starlight (Karin) 102 Brightest Melody 103 MIRAI TICKET 104 SKY JOURNEY 105 Guilty Eyes Fever (Guilty Kiss) 106 NO EXIT ORION (Printemps) 107 Sayounara e Sayonara! 108 MOMENT RING 109 Sakkaku CROSSROADS (BiBi) 110 MIRACLE WAVE 111 Shadow gate to love (Guilty Kiss) 112 Shoujo Ijou no Koi ga Shitai 113 Future style (Honoka, Umi, Kotori) 114 Mermaid festa vol.2 ~Passionate~ (Honoka&Rin) 115 after school NAVIGATORS (NicoRinPana) 116 Listen to my heart!! (NicoRinPana) 117 Storm in Lover (Eli&Umi) 118 Takaramonozu 119 Kitto Seishun ga Kikoeru 120 Snow halation 121 Junai Lens (Nozomi) 122 baby maybe Koi no Button 123 Someday of my life (Honoka) 124 WILD STARS 125 Kodoku na Heaven (Hanayo) 126 Aishiteru Banzai! 127 Mogyutto "love" de Sekkin Chuu! 128 Kaigandoori de Matteru yo (CYaRon!) 129 Watashitachi wa Mirai no Hana (Umi) 130 SENTIMENTAL StepS 131 ENDLESS PARADE 132 Love wing bell 133 Dancing stars on me! 134 Bokura no Hashittekita Michi wa… 135 Soshite Saigo no Peji ni Wa 136 Sore wa Bokutachi no Kiseki 137 Yume e no Ippo (Ayumu) 138 Tokimeki Runners (PDP) 139 Kimi no Kokoro wa Kagayaiteru kai? 140 Aqours?HEROES 141 Seinaru Hi no Inori 142 Moshimo Kara Kitto (Nozomi) 143 Todokanai Hoshi da to Shitemo 144 Anemone heart (Umi&Kotori) 145 Sakura Bye Bye (CYaRon) 146 No brand girls 147 Bokura no LIVE Kimi to no LIFE 148 Mahoutsukai Hajimemashita! (Nico) 149 Shocking Party (A-RISE) 150 Guilty!? Farewell party (Guilty Kiss) 151 Mirai no Bokura wa Shitteru yo 152 Private Wars (A-RISE) 153 Susume?Tomorrow 154 KiRa-KiRa Sensation! 155 Saitei de Saikou no Paradiso (BiBi) 156 Jingle bells ga Tomaranai 157 Tousou Meisou Mobius Loop (3rd Years) 158 Diamond (Kasumi) 159 RED GEM WINK (Ruby) 160 No.10 161 WONDERFUL STORIES 162 Oyasuminasan! (Hanamaru) 163 One More Sunshine Story (Chika) 164 Kaguya no Shiro de Odoritai 165 INNOCENT BIRD (AZALEA) 166 MUSEUM de Dou Shitai? (Printemps) 167 ??HEARTBEAT (Eli, Nozomi, Nico) 168 Spica Terrible (Kotori) 169 Kururin MIRACLE (Rin) 170 Zurui yo Magnetic today (Maki&Nico) 171 Beat in Angel (Rin&Maki) 172 Yuujou no Change 173 Blueberry?Train (Kotori) 174 Koi no Shigunaru Rin rin rin! (Rin) 175 Bokura wa Ima no Naka de 176 P.S. no Mukougawa (CYaRon!) 177 Pops heart de Odorun damon! 178 Waku-Waku-Week! (1st Years) 179 Dokipipo ? Emotion (Rina) 180 Omoide Ijou ni Naritakute (lily white) 181 Kimeta yo Hand in Hand (2nd Years) 182 WAO-WAO Powerful day! (Printemps) 183 Shiawase Iki no SMILING! (Honoka) 184 Wonder zone 185 Korekara no Someday 186 Suki desu ga Suki desu ka? (Kotori&Hanayo) 187 Yume Naki Yume wa Yume janai (Honoka) 188 Diamond Princess no Yuutsu (BiBi) 189 Kimi no Kuse ni! (lily white) 190 A-NO-NE-GA-N-BA-RE! (lily white) 191 Binetsu Kara Mystery (lily white) 192 Shiranai Love*Oshiete Love (lily white) 193 Happy maker! 194 Ai wa Taiyou Janai? (Honoka) 195 Hello, Hoshi wo Kazoete (Rin, Maki, Hanayo) 196 Trouble Busters (BiBi) 197 Pure girls project (Printemps) 198 sweet&sweet holiday (Printemps) 199 Otohime Haato de Rabu Kyuuden (lily white) 200 Super LOVE=Super LIVE! 201 Mi wa µ'sic no Mi 202 Aki no Anata no Sora Tooku (lily white) 203 COLORFUL VOICE

#love live #music #aqours #personal list #sunshine

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